


Somewhere at the Bottom

by mewthr33



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dramatic, Eventual fantasy, F/F, Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Drug Use, Multi, Rambling, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewthr33/pseuds/mewthr33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra and August are both prideful assholes that find love and are kept apart by August's dictating father, except for one night a month where they're left to reunite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically unedited and I need help to smooth out the kinks and make it easier and better to read. It's already completely finished, so I just need to post the rest of the chapters. Please help out and comment on what I need to improve.

Did you know that the human erection has enough blood to keep 3 gerbils alive? Somehow, that fact ends up crossing my mind every time I lay in bed at night, jerking off to ease the pain of a pathetically lonely life. Maybe it's because I have nothing else in my mind and no one else in my bed to think of, to find comfort and warmth in. However, I don't really define myself as a particularly sad person. In fact, I find it better and more refreshing to wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and think 'you are a magnificent guy, Ezra' just to start the day out on a good note. Honestly, I find self-loathing and self-consciousness completely pointless. Even if nobody is falling over their feet to tell me I'm the most perfect guy in the world, I'm content with myself. Why shouldn't I be? Of all the infinite theories, dimensions, galaxies, and life forms, what is one solitary person, or state, or country, or even planet? Why should I care what people think when in many theories, the entire universe could be a mere figment of my imagination? Why should I care what people think when we're all going to end up dead anyway? It's not like I'm going to spend eternity with these insignificant beings; actually, I'm probably not even going to see them again after another year or so.

With a resigned sigh, I sit up in my bed and take a quick glance at my alarm clock, letting out a rumbling groan. 4:39 am. Great. I have to find a way to kill an hour and a half because there is no way I'm going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my blond locks. If only I could remember that dream. Grabbing my pack of cigarettes and a jacket, I climb through my window up to the roof, breathing in the fresh air appreciatively. I grab the lighter conveniently placed inside my jacket and light up a cigarette, thankful for the toxins that give me a tiny sense of comfort and control in my pathetic life.

As a matter of fact, control is the one main thing that any human craves, desires, hungers for. All humans are monsters, with no exceptions. It's simply human nature. Perhaps we were put onto this earth with this horrible lust for power and control so that we could survive in the world; so that we had to destroy everything in our path just to live among other creatures.

But to truly realize this fact is to realize that thousands of theories, philosophies, and religions have been basically proven useless. What's the use attempting to quench the thirst for blood and power and sex and love to prove yourself to a supreme being that's never been specifically proven if in reality, it will always be prevalent in humans.

Everything is completely irrelevant when people rape, kill, torture, manipulate for no reason other than to feel true, unmitigated power; when people commit mass genocides, homocides, and that's only to fellow humans. The injustices done on creatures in general are on a completely different scale.

The point is, humans have always been horrible to other beings, and everyone has felt some urge to control at least one aspect of their life or someone else's life. There are no special butterflies in the world of hate, destruction, and tyranny.

Or maybe I'm completely wrong. Who even knows.

Half an hour later, the sun begins to peek over the trees surrounding my house, drawing a sigh from my parted lips. I snuff out the cigarette, knowing that if Mom catches me smoking again, she'll be furious and will probably end up yelling at me. She usually doesn't care that I smoke, but ever since she got pregnant, she's been all up my ass about it, arguing that it's 'not good for me' and 'an expensive habit' and 'dangerous to the baby.' But she knows that I'd never smoke around her, especially since my little sister is developing inside of her.

Regardless, I quickly take one last drag and snuff out the cigarette before slipping soundlessly back inside. Not wanting to waste time, I put my clothes on and grab my backpack before leaving my room and entering the kitchen. Attempting to retain a sense of silence, I stealthily make my way through the kitchen, snatching two apples and a bottle of water. Content with what I have, I turn around to walk through the door and out of the house. I'm halfway there before I hear a throat clearing, causing me to jump and nearly drop my apples. My head cranes to look at my mother standing in the doorway with one hand on her hip and the other resting on her protruding belly.

"What is it, Ezra? You look like you've seen a ghost," she smirks, taking a few steps towards me. "Nah, just a woman intent on driving me crazy," I reply, meeting her with a few short strides. She opens her arms and I gladly comply, letting her wrap her arms around my waist. After she inhales and winces at the smell of cigarette smoke, I smoothly pry myself away from her and give her a kiss on the cheek before I can be reprimanded.

"Love you, Mom, see you later," I call out, halfway out the door.

"Ezra!" she exclaims, making me wince a bit.

"Yes, Mother?" I reply.

"Get me some barbeque chips on your way home from school, please," she requests, to my relief.

"Yeah, alright," I agree, ready to close the door and leave.

"Oh, and Ezra?" she calls again sweetly.

"...Yes, Mother?" I reply hesitantly.

"If you're gonna smoke, at least get rid of that damn stench."

"Okay, Mom. See you later."

With one last wave, I find myself out the door, walking into the direction of the rising sun. School doesn't start for another hour and a half, but I don't really feel like staying in that house anymore. Besides, taking a walk is always pretty refreshing, especially after a sleepless night. During the walk, I basically around aimlessly and attempt to clear my head of the thoughts that burden me, thoughts of love and sex and death and what happens when we all die, and then an attempt to calm myself after another panic attack. After about 45 minutes, I decide to head to school. Maybe another day of trite monotony will soothe the maelstrom inside my head.

And then as I suffered through the first few periods of the school day, I realized that my assumption about finding relief in the uniformity of school and ignorance was hopelessly optimistic and unrealistic. So, right before lunch—where I would usually get my lunch and find solace in the library—I decided to go ahead and skip the rest of the day. It's not like it mattered anyway since the really important classes I go to are in the first half of my day.

After walking around aimlessly for about an hour and a half, I decide to sit down at the park near my house, glad that I can revel in the peace that I usually don't find during the afternoons when the grounds are riddled with obnoxious, judgmental children. Turning my iPod on, I immediately head toward my favorite part of the park: the swings. I could probably swing for hours if it didn't make my ass hurt something fierce. But usually, that didn't even stop me. Maybe it's just a reminder of a happier time, when my mother used to lay my head in her lap and play with my hair, or take me to the park, or something along those lines. I'm not saying that my parents have started abandoning or ostracizing me or anything along those lines; it's more of a sentimentality issue. I just like remembering when things were more innocent and simple. I guess I'm just a sentimental fool at heart.

Anyway, once I'd had my share of fun at the park, my feet carried me to the nearby Sonic, where I feasted on a hearty meal of chili cheese tater tots and a cherry limeade. After debating it for a few minutes, I decide to get my mom an order of popcorn chicken and a grape slushie, knowing that if I came home with the much welcomed food, she would be less mad at me. She probably won't care anyway; she's told me that I'm allowed to skip once or twice a year, as long as I don't miss much and I don't have many absences otherwise, so the food will just be a bonus.

I suffer through the short walk home, really wishing I'd waited a few more minutes before walking and instigating this agony in my stomach. My first few steps through the threshold of the house are filled with the relief of being at a place of rest, and then as I place the still warm food on the counter, I let out a yell to Mom, who seems to be in the living room.

"Why did you skip?" she asks, making grabby hands towards the food. With a laugh, I bequeath the food to her and plop down on the couch next to her.

"Bad night. Couldn't concentrate today, so I decided to take off and walk around a little," I explain with a shrug. In between large mouthfuls of food, she turns to me donning a look of concern.

"Anything you wanna talk about, kid? I could probably relate, I used to have a lot of sleepless nights, too," she offers.

"Nah, thanks though."

She just ruffles my hair and shoots me a slow grin. "No problem. And remember, just because I'm your mom doesn't mean that you can't come to me with anything. Plus, why wouldn't you? I'm such a cool person," she sighs, obviously pleased with her overall self.

"That you are, Mom. But I think it's just something I need to work through myself." Yeah, cause who needs to have goddamned philosophical epiphanies at 17? Then again, I've been scared shitless of the thought of death and afterlife and eternity since I was about 9 or 10. And that's never really gone away. I just keep locking it in my subconscious until it decides to come out and pummel me into a terrified, weak mess in the pale moonlight of another sleepless night. I'll admit, it's not really a very healthy way of living, but I'd rather have it come out whenever and scare me shitless than face it head-on and think about... things I don't want to think about. Damn, I really get off track sometimes.

So, back to the present. Mom's flipping through the channels, attempting to catch something that's not shitty daytime TV, but like usual, there's nothing else. And we turn to Netflix. Mom and I watch a couple of movies in comfortable silence until she pats my leg, stands up—with a bit of difficulty—and reminds me to go to the grocery store. Before she disappears into her room for a nap, she tells me not to skip again, even though we both know that I don't do it often so it's not really that big of a deal.

With a groan, I stand up and stretch before grabbing my iPod, iPhone, and the debit card Mom is letting me take for the things I need to get at the store. I get all the way to the store before I realize that it's closed for renovations or whatever, so I have to go to the store across town in the rich part. A loud groan makes its way out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I trudge the seven or so miles to the next grocery store, panting and groaning the whole way. Part of me, however, is thankful that the summer humidity has been finally banished to the depths of hell where it belongs and has been replaced by a cool fall breeze.

The doors automatically slide open as I near the entrance, the gust of air conditioning giving me no relief from the cool air outside. I trudge on regardless, seeking out the treasured barbeque chips. I find the large bag of chips relatively soon and after putting them in my basket, I decide to pick up a few more things for us, like sour gummy worms for Mom, a Dr. Pepper for Dad, and a pack of Sour Patch Kids for me. After paying for the snacks, I plunge back into the brisk afternoon, choosing to take a shortcut through the forest so that I won't have to be outside longer than I have to.

Humming softly to myself, I stroll through the forest, mostly at peace with my surroundings and ready to get home and into the comforting warmth of the house. I finally encounter the river, which is the last landmark before the end of the forest where it lets out into my town. In the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of red and stare at it in an attempt to understand the picture. What is that? Maybe a piece of trash or something? But after further analysis (aka squinting), I realize that the flash of red is in actuality a head of red hair in the river. Of course, the head is attached to a body and whatnot. I nearly shiver to myself just thinking of how cold that damn water must be and how crazy this person must be to be taking a nice dip in the freezing water.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shout to the figure, startling it into turning around and facing me. Ah, a guy. A totally attractive one, mind you, but not really my type.

"How does it concern you?" he replies in a bored tone, raising an eyebrow.

"It doesn't, you dick, but I'm just curious as to how you're taking an oh so casual dip in a river that must be fucking freezing," I counter.

"Why does it matter? Now, if you would please leave and take your distasteful vulgarity with you so that I can finish my swim in peace," this mystery guy requests with a condescending tone. And against my inner argument that yes, I need to go so that I can go home and warm up and not stay here talking to this snobbish dick, something else encourages me to say fuck it and start stripping off my shirt, shoes, and pants and join the boy next to me, much to his obvious chagrin.

"J-J-Jesus Christ! How the f-fuck do you d-do this?" I shiver, answering the glaring boy with a glare of my own.

"I just my use my self control, which you obviously lack, and get over it! Now just do us both a favor and get the hell out and leave before I get more pissed," he snarls out, gritting his teeth.

I let out a loud, sarcastic laugh through my shivers. "Oh, s-s-sorry. Am I b-bothering you?" The guy glares even harder, now obviously angry.

"Whatever, I'm just gonna leave before I do something I regret," he huffs, letting out a visible puff of breath into the air.

"Oh, really? What would you do anyway, oh noble one?" I retort, rolling my eyes.

"Hmm, I'd probably do this," he calmly replies, grabbing a handful of my hair at the nape of my neck and yanking my head towards him to meet in an angry kiss. We meet with bruising lips and gnashing teeth, but damn, I wouldn't have it any other way. After pulling away, we glare at each other once again.

"Whatever, you bastard. You probably need to go anyway. I bet you have an appointment with a doctor to try to remove that stick from your ass that you're late for," I sneer weakly. Stupid bastard.

"That was disappointing," he comments in regards to my lame comeback. At least, he'd better be talking about my lame comeback and not my kissing abilities.

"Not as disappointing as... your... goddammit, this isn't fair, I'm having an off day," I groan. As the guy starts to stand up and get out, I of course make sure to check if he's naked or not (not, unfortunately) before following him. I immediately start shivering even more and put on my clothes faster than sin, not even looking at the other guy who doesn't even look bothered by the cold. What a freak.

"Come on, give me your number so I can at least text you with a better comeback later," I demand, needing to prove myself to this stranger.

"Whatever," he mutters, throwing me his phone to enter my number in. Part of me almost considered dropping it in the river and running away as a big 'fuck you', but no matter how much I don't like this guy, something inside me makes me back off. Lame.

I enter in my digits and set my name as 'Ezra the best' before texting myself on his phone and throwing it back.

"Ezra? Nice name," he taunts with a cold laugh.

"Oh, and I bet yours is any better," I snarl in response. "Ezra is a cool as hell name. I bet yours is totally lame and weird. Ya know, fitting to your freakish asshole personality." Like I said, off my game.

"My name is August," he responds, rolling his eyes. I don't even attempt to choke back my laughter.

"And you made fun of me for my name, you fucking hypocrite!" I choke out.

He snarls an unintelligible response before stomping off.

"Oh, come on, baby, don't be like that," I shout after him, eager for an angered reaction. Which, of course, I get, as he turns around, flips me the bird, and continues stomping off in the direction of the rich part of town. I'm not exactly surprised that he's from that part, to be honest. People from that area are basically the same. Rich, ambitious assholes that think that everyone that isn't just like them is scum. And this isn't just me being unreasonable and not understanding towards them, I've just known many of them personally and know how they think and what they think and well, long story short, I was not impressed.

But either way, there's no way I'd let a guy with lips like that and an ass like that just slip out of my grasp. Maybe we could even set up an... arrangement or something. With a smirk carelessly spread across my face, I take out my phone and pull up the text that I sent myself from that guy's—August, whatever—phone. I laugh a little as I reread the small words that spell out "hey sexy" and smother a laugh before responding to myself.

"Oh, it's so great to know you think so highly of me c;" I reply before placing my phone in my pocket and resuming my torturous walk home.

Ignoring the slight buzz of a response in my pocket, I leisurely make my way through town, carrying my bag and myself loosely. When I finally enter my house again, shivering violently, I place the bag on the kitchen counter and rush up to my room to change into different, less wet clothes. And to see what that bastard wrote back.

Lighting a candle, I start to change into a warm pair of pajamas and breathe a sigh of relief at the warm feeling taking over my arctic skin. Once I finish, I fall onto the bed and pull out my phone, reading over the reply.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," it reads. I smirk before sending a text of my own.

"But isn't that what you just did, idiot?"

Minutes later, we're fully engaged in the conversation, and even though he is an insufferable asshole, the lonely little monster inside me craves the human interaction that I've been missing out on for the past few years.

"Oh, by the way, I just told me dad that we're dating and he wants you to come over for dinner sometime," I read before choking on my Sprite and replying with celerity I didn't know existed inside me.

"Wow, August, I didn't know you were so up your own ass that you didn't even ask me first. I'm flattered, but no thanks."

"It's not like that, you imbecile," he responds, "I just thought it'd be a nice way to end the day—get Dad so mad he can't even talk to me. Obviously, it worked. Saying that, would you care to make a business arrangement?" I roll my eyes at his explanation, willing myself to not send back something that jeopardizes my chances to get in his pants.

"And what would this so-called business arrangement entail? What's in it for me?" I text, with a slight eagerness to see what he'd be willing to give for this.

"What do you even want? Money? Status? Drugs? Sexual favors?"

"Hmm, I wouldn't mind the last one, but first tell me what I'd have to do so that you can carry out your little angsty teenager rebellion."

"Just come over when I tell you, and pretend to be my boyfriend. That's it. And it's not an 'angsty teenager rebellion.'" I immediately perk up, smirking as my fingers fly across the screen, pressing invisible keys.

"Oh, really? Why can't you get anyone else to do it? Why do you have to resort to me, a mere stranger you met today? Don't have you have boys and girls lining up to be used by you?"

"Maybe I do, but I don't want to use people that actually matter, so I have to use obnoxious tools like yourself. Plus, it's not like people are lining up to be with you either." Ooh, feisty.

"You wound me, August, really. But anyway, let me sleep on it, and I'll tell you tomorrow. Maybe," I reply before turning my phone off and taking out a book to read until Mom calls for dinner in a couple of hours. A few pages, I can barely keep my eyes open and let myself drift off into much needed sleep.

When I awaken hours later, it's already dark outside and when I look at the alarm clock, I note that it's well past when Mom and Dad usually go to bed. I close my eyes and clear my mind, but minutes later, I sit up in bed and sigh deeply, knowing that I won't be able to sleep again for the rest of the night. And of course, there's nothing I really feel like doing. Maybe I'll take a walk. Maybe I'll get on my laptop. Maybe I'll rob a bank. Whatever. Or maybe I can annoy my new 'friend.' If he's even awake.

After turning my phone back on and reading through his following texts, I take a chance and send a simple "whassup, bitch?" before grabbing my comforter and cigs and joining the moon up on the roof.

"Hey, moon, please forget to fall down," I sing jokingly up to the man in the moon, who laughs back. Within seconds, my ridiculous laughing is interrupted by an annoying buzzing sound. With a raised eyebrow, I glance at my phone and almost laugh again when I see that it's August who texted me.

"Why are you up?" he asks.

Without any attempts to choke my laughter this time, I let out a few snickers and reply, "Should I be asking you that? And for your information, I just took a nap and woke up and now I have nothing to do."

A few sentences and a promise of sexual favors later, I'm found sitting on my bed, waiting for August to come and pick me up. About ten minutes later, my phone buzzes with a new text that reads a simple "I'm here." I make my way through the house slowly, intent on getting him as impatient and angry as possible, but at the end, I speed up slightly as I stealthily exit my house and stride to where August is waiting.

"So, what do you want to do?" I ask as I slide into his damn nice car.

"Does it matter?" he snaps.

"Let's just go before you throw a hissy fit and wake up my mom," I taunt, relishing in the reaction.

"You're the one who fucking tex—" he starts, but I cut him off by putting a hand over his stupid pouty lips.

"Shut the fuck up. Just drive."

Accompanied by low growl, he puts the car in drive and heads towards what I'm guessing is his house. "Whatever."

Minutes later, we pull up to a lavish looking house and I almost let my jaw drop in shock, to August's chagrin. "Pick your jaw off the ground, idiot, it's not that big." I just shrug.

"Hey, it's bigger than mine. And don't even say a word of what I know you're thinking."

He smiles innocently back. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he counters, parking the car and getting out. I stifle the urge to note how he didn't open my door for me like a true gentleman. As he leads me inside, I take notice of how elegant the inside is, but not even the warmth from the heater can convince me that any true warmth or happiness takes place in this house. Maybe it's the walls devoid of any pictures of the general emptiness, but something just begs to differ to think that this house is a home.

I choose not to say anything about though; all I can focus on is the boy currently leading me to his room. Before he opens the door that he stops in front of, I speak up.

"What are we going to do anyway?"

"Shut up," he answers as he brings his face down to mine and opens the door, pushing me inside. I can barely even comment on the stale, nearly empty room before he pushes me down on the bed and repeats his words. With a single 'whatever,' I pull him down the few centimeters to reach my face and kiss him.

Suddenly, he pushes himself up and walks away. As I protest, he sneers down at me and locks the door before returning to me.

"Shut up," he repeats once more.

"You shut up."


	2. Two

A few hours later, I lift August's arm off of my chest and detach myself from his body to get up and start to get ready to leave. A few small groans leave his mouth, but he doesn't stir. With a slight roll of my eyes, I stand up and stretch before I start to pick up my clothes that are scattered around the room and put them on.

Right before I walk out the door, I hear a loud groan and turn around slowly. As August slowly sits up, I notice the wince on his face and smirk triumphantly. However, it doesn't stop him from standing up—slowly and with much grumbling—and walking to the adjoining bathroom. And nothing can stop me from admiring the marks I left last night and just him in his naked glory in general. I mean, damn. Right before the bathroom closes, he announces that I can show myself out since he's taking a shower to rid himself of the stench. Whatever. I didn't expect anything else, to be honest. I don't think I'd even really want anything else either.

So I leave, taking a cigarette out of the pack stuffed in my rumpled jeans. After fumbling around with the lighter for a few seconds, I finally inhale deeply, reveling in the comforting smoke that lingers in my lungs and then in turn, the air. About twenty minutes and a cigarette later, I walk through the door, careful not to wake Mom or Dad. Luckily, I get to my room silently and successfully, and without much thought, I shed some clothes and fall into my bed with a loud thunk, already asleep only seconds later.

The next thing I remember is waking up to the obnoxiously blaring of my alarm clock and Mom yelling at me to 'turn the damn thing off already, Jesus Christ, some people are trying to sleep.' After smothering the threatening flames of a stupid joke, I turn the alarm clock off and grudgingly drag myself out of bed. One outfit and a comb through my hair later, I grab an apple and stumble out the door, ready to get to school and just get the day over with. Halfway there, I receive a simple 'Good morning, idiot' from August, but I'm too tired to be witty, so I just ignore it for the time being.

Once I finally get to the monochromatic building, I send back a good morning and then ask if he can still walk. Of course, he won't give me that satisfaction, seeing as he answers that actually, he feels quite fine, to which I reply with the always classy 'fuck you.' And then he comments how next time, it won't be me fucking him. I have to really use some self control in order to not pop a fucking boner right in the middle of walking to school.

But then, my concentration is broken as some dumb fuck decides that now would be a great time to stop paying attention as to where they're going, knocking me over in the process.

"Watch where you're going," I grumble to the figure.

"Sorry," the person—guy—replies almost shyly, "I should've been more cautious."

With curious eyes, I glance up at the guy. Hazel eyes stare back at mine, widened slightly. The almond shaped eyes belong to a tall, Asian guy who looks way too nervous.

"Whatever," I mutter, standing up and brushing the dirt off my jeans. As I start to walk away, a voice causes me to halt.

"Wait!" he calls. I turn around, eyebrow raised, asking silently what the hell he wants. The poor bastard blushes under my hard gaze.

"U-Um, are you going to the school?"

"Yes, obviously. Why else would I be headed in that direction at 6-in-the-fuck-me-morning? Why do you wanna know?" I ask sarcastically. It's probably not really helping him at all, but whatever. What do I care?

"I-It's just that today is my first day, and I don't know where to go. Could you maybe... show me when we get there? Or show me to someone who can?" he forces out. After thinking for a few seconds, I send him a little shrug.

"Yeah, why not."

A huge grin nearly splits his face open, brightening his being and his aura.

"Thank you so much!" he exclaims, "I would probably end up wandering aimlessly around the school and getting lost. Oh, and my name is Hung."

I roll my eyes slightly. "Yeah, whatever. I'm Ezra." Motioning forward with my head, I stare at the rosy cheeked boy. "Come on, let's go." With an eager nod, he starts walking in the wrong direction. My eyes follow for a few seconds before I sigh, half in irritation and half in amusement. "Wrong direction, dumbass!"

Seconds later, he passes me again in the opposite direction, blushing furiously and walking quickly. I follow after him languidly, shaking my head with a glittering smirk. Maybe I could get used to this idiot.

Hours later, after school is over, the same idiot is still trailing after me like a fucking puppy and I can't help but vehemently deny my previous thought. "So, what do you do after school? What's your life like? What do you do for fun?" he asks, shooting out question after question, not wasting a breath in between words.

"Jesus Christ, could you stop? Yeah, I agreed to show you around school and shit, but I never agreed to be your friend, you annoying son of a bitch," I seethe, hoping to get any indication that he would just leave me the hell alone.

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to keep trying until you agree to be my friend," he replies simply. "Anyway, I have to go. See you tomorrow, Ezra." And with that, he walks off in the opposite direction, leaving me completely irritated from the entire day of being stuck around that idiot.

But then a ping from my phone pulls me out of my thoughts. When I notice that it's from August, my mood picks up considerably. And then the following words pick up both my mood and the corners of my lips.

[From: Faggotface]: Wanna fuck?

Without sending a response, my legs begin to carry me in the direction of his huge house. When I finally get there, he greets me at the door with a short nod of approval and then proceeds to lead me inside, only slowing near the living room to shoot his father a smug look. Ah, right, his daddy issues. Upstairs, he closes the door behind us, stares at me with particularly smoldering look, and whispers in my ear, "Scream for me."

So I do. Well, not at that very moment. That would be weird. But you know what I mean. Afterwards, we lie side by side, not touching as if some invisible force prevents the inevitability of human contact. Or maybe it's just the unwillingness to admit weakness, even in the sweet afterglows of sex. So we just lie there, him breathing heavily and me smoking a cigarette.

"So," I begin, breaking the silence, "Any particular reason you wanted me over? Y'know, other than piss off your daddy? Cause otherwise, I've really gotta be going..." I tease, moving as if to stand up.

"Shut up, asshole," he growls, rolling over onto me and tearing the cigarette from my fingers, taking a drag. He blows the thick smoke into my face before leaning up and kissing me again. I can't even taunt him for being hard again because honestly, so am I.

The next time, I stare up at him, captivated by the ethereal glow left on his auburn hair by the receding sun. "I really have to go this time. My mom's been texting me like crazy. And you'd better get up and give me a ride home," I demand, slightly limping to my pile of clothes and putting them on my already sore figure.

"Yeah? And why would I do that?" he replies, voice still rough.

With a slight smirk, I turn around, shooting him a look. "Maybe because it's getting dark and I'm already sore from having your dick in my ass. Therefore, you're giving me a ride home," I explain matter-of-factly.

"Why can't you get another ride? I don't feel like getting up," he whines.

"Well, that's too damn bad. My dad's still at work and my mom is 7 months pregnant and hates driving anywhere. So get your lazy ass up and drive me home. I mean, it's the least you can do for texting me out of nowhere just cause you want to get back at your dad," I snap, putting my hands on my hips. August just rolls his eyes and stands up, putting on a pair of nearby boxers and sweatpants.

"Oh, please, I didn't think you were complaining a little while ago when you were screaming my name," he counters with a smirk, "But just because I'm so gracious, I'll give you a ride."

"Thank you so much, oh kind and gracious sir. How will I ever repay you?" I ask sardonically.

"We'll figure that out later," he answers, sauntering over to me and grabbing my hips roughly; not enough to hurt, but just enough to give off some needed pressure. I place my hands on his, taking them off and placing them on his chest.

"Christ, how much do you possibly need in one day? You're just excited because you're not the one taking it this time," I scoff, turning around to leave. The only sound that meets my ears as I leave is an unintelligible mumble. After a few seconds, he joins me in walking down the stairs, and even wraps an arm around my waist. I look at him questioningly, silently wondering what he's doing, but he doesn't even look at me. But as we pass by his dad and the grip tightens, I understand. For shits and giggles, as we pass his dad, I shoot the sitting man a small wave and smirk.

Just as I thought, he lets go once we're out the door and in turn, his dad's sight. The ride home is mainly silent, both of us thoroughly worn out and ready to be away from each other until the next booty call. Basically the only sound filling the car is the sound of clicks on my phone as I text my mom back, assuring her that I'm safe and almost home, and my occasionally giving him directions.

"Who're you texting anyway? It's like you haven't parted with that damn phone since we left," he huffs. What a bitch.

"I'm texting my mom, asshole. Why, are you jealous?" I retort. He laughs loudly at my question.

"Hah, as if. It's just the noise is getting on my nerves."

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

"Uh-huh, sure. Well, you won't have to listen to it much longer, since my house is right up there."

Already from our position down the road, I can spot my mother standing in the yard, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Oh shit. Note to self: Always remember to text Mom first. August laughs as he sees the fuming woman, spewing some shit about how I'm so fucked. Finally his gaping shit hole he calls a mouth shuts as I shoot him a murderous glare.

Once we pull up to my house, I look at August, almost preferring the company of the obnoxious asshole over my scornful mother. But even being viciously yelled at and guilt tripped by my mom is preferable to hanging out with that prick. It just seems like the lesser evil of the two. So I release a deep breath and mutter a small 'thanks or whatever' before getting out of the car and sending Mom a guilty, please-don't-yell-at-me look.

"Sorry, Mom, I should've-" I start, not even sparing a glance at the retreating car, knowing that if I do, the look of amusement I'll receive from August is not worth the anger added on to Mom's already furious disposition. Damn, she'll never let me go anywhere after this.

"You know what, Ezra? Just... go to your room or something. I can't deal with this stress right now. Just... get out of my sight," she seethes, rubbing her forehead. And honestly, this scares me even more than if she was yelling at me. It's probably just because she can't be stressed since it's bad for the baby, but still. It still stings a little bit in the slight shred of sensitivity I've managed to retain over the years.

Either way, I haul ass to my room, not wanting to cause Mom even more stress. I mean, yeah, I know I'm an asshole a lot, but I don't think I could ever be the pure dick that I know I am to my mom. So as I close the door to my room, a deep feeling of relief comes over me at the thought of being able to just lay down on my bed and finally have a nice nap. Ah, yes. A nap would be... heavenly.

The bed dips as I lay down, gentle with my sore body. My eyelids slide down, finally meeting gently at the bottom and granting me the darkness that I crave. I feel myself slipping away into the complexities and simplicities of my mind, the darkness, the stars, the universe, the sea, faces, bodies, thoughts, horrors, pleasures and then I'm out.


	3. Three

Weeks had passed since that day, and things carried on the same they usually did, bar the budding friendship I'd nearly been forced into with Hung and the ongoing deal with August. And no, it's not that dumb shit where we've been fucking and [insert doe-eyed expression and breathy voice] oh it's just so perfect and I'm really starting to fall for him and he's so perfect and feeeelingssss. No. The sex is great, and that's all.

Well, actually, that's not all, but still. I mean, sure, I've developed feelings of some sort for the idiot, but that's to be expected, right? Surely the familiarity of such intimacy and physical attraction and occasional emotional attraction is destined to create some sort of... inescapable feeling of romanticism? Because otherwise, there's no way that I would ever feel anything for that son of a bitch. Sure, he has his moments, but they're definitely fleeting and subordinate in comparison to the rest of his personality. Then again, who am I to judge? I'm no less of a dick than he is most of the time. Maybe we're just fucking perfect for each other. Haha, yeah, as if. That bastard could never be anything except for a hindrance in my otherwise normal life.

Anyway, both him and that Chinese bastard have started to grow on me. Sometimes being around Hung is too much for me to take—hell, for anyone to take—but sometimes he's the coolest little shit I've ever met. And his sister, Jacqueline, is pretty chill, too. She's more of a laid back and almost wise person, and it's a welcomed change compared to her brother. It's easy to tell that they're not biologically related just from their completely polar personalities. Well, and the fact that they're not even the same nationality is a pretty strong indicator as well.

A loud ping drags me from my reverie forcefully and I almost groan as I read the message from who else but August.

[From: Faggotface]: Meet me at the bridge in 15.

Hmm, probably another fight with his dad. Why the bridge though? By now, the river's already frozen, so he's not gonna swim, but there's nowhere good to fuck. Ugh, whatever.

So I head off to the bridge, shivering slightly at the biting wind that nips even through my beanie, thick coat, thicker coat, two hoodies, my warmest pair of jeans, and combat boots. But then again, it is the dead of winter, and even though it's in the South, it gets cold enough to freeze my nuts off.

Even though my legs swiftly carry my body to my awaiting... person... my mind can't help but protest. Why? Why did I even do this in the first place? Was it really worth it? Why do I always show up, no questions asked, no objections? Why am I such a bitch?

Before I can even answer any of my questions, the bridge and that mane of deep auburn hair comes into view, momentarily distracting me from my thoughts. The first that I notice as I draw closer is the anger displayed clearly on his face. Yup, another fight. Then again, when doesn't he have a fight with his dad? I'm getting pretty damn tired of having him butt heads with his dad so often and then come bitching to me. No, wait, he doesn't even bitch to me, he just fucks and leaves.

I barely contain my chagrin as I approach the ginger. "What was it this time, August? Never mind, you won't tell me anyway. Let's just get this over with," I groan. But unlike the previous times, he doesn't do anything. Rather than getting right to it, he just stares at me for a few minutes, anger still looming in his eyes and lips.

"What? Stop fucking looking at me. Unless you didn't ask me to come here to fuck away your idiotic problems like usual. Nah, you don't have the control or the personality for it. So what're you waiting for?" I snap, ready to get home and attempt to salvage the remnants of my once good mood that faded over the course of the walk here. The anger only builds, but he still says nothing. Hm, maybe he does have some grasp on the idea of self control.

"No," he finally says, shaking his head, "I... I think that it'd be better if we just... stopped doing this." Well, I didn't expect that one.

"Whatever, August. Thanks a fucking lot for dragging me out here in the cold to tell me something you could've texted me in the warmth of my house, you piece of shit. Have a nice life," I growl, turning back.

"So that's just it?" he asks, looking almost surprised, "The only thing you care about is that I made you walk out in the cold? Fuck." What the fuck is he even going on about?

"What's your problem? You're the one who broke it off. Why should I care? It's not like you mattered to me anyway," I counter, rolling my eyes. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie, but so what? It's not like it matters. He was just a good fuck, and so was I.

"Yeah, okay, Ezra. Just fucking leave," he finally replies.

"That's what I've been wanting to do the whole time. Oh, and good luck finding another fuckbuddy who'll put up with your ridiculous daddy issues, faggot," I shoot back, finally turning around to leave.

"Yeah, fuck you, too," is the only thing I hear before I begin my walk back home.

I basically stomp the rest of the way home, grumbling to myself the whole way. Whatever. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. I don't give a shit about him and he doesn't give a shit about me. My life will be better without him anyway. Maybe now I can actually start to get things done.

The first week, I feel happy—relieved even—and I even promptly deleted the bastard's number from my phone, eager to distance myself from him. And even though sexual frustration started to build up inside, I was sure that it was for the best.

The second week, I started to get lonely. My nights felt a little more empty than usual without the prospect of a possible fuck. Well, I could've turned to Hung, but there's no way I could ever do that.

The third week, I started to get angry. How dare he turn me down, leave me hanging, and without so much as an excuse? What a dick move. All of his moves were dick moves.

The fourth week, I started to give up because caring for people, even subconsciously, is a horrible thing for people who are not cut out to care. It doesn't even matter anyway. What do people matter? Why is it so important to have someone else in your life? I'm fine with myself. Sure, it gets lonely sometimes, but so what? A lonely existence is still an existence.

The fifth week, he texted me, asking for me to come to the bridge. It took me a few minutes to gather my thoughts, but I ended up sending a one-word reply and tugging on my combat boots with a sigh. I couldn't even fathom a single reason as to why I would meet up with him, especially now that I was doing just fine with no contact from him.

After a short walk, I arrived at the bridge, where we meet my present self standing and staring awkwardly at his phone. And now we wait.

About a minute after I arrive, the foreign head of hair, now cut shorter, is seen bobbing up and down with the steps of its owner. I set my face into a deep frown, furrowing my eyebrows and drawing my lips down in a look of displeasure. By the time that he stops in front of me, I've been staring disapprovingly at him for about two minutes.

"Ezra," he greets shortly, forcing my frown to grow even deeper.

"Just cut to the chase, August, my mom doesn't want me gone for too long," I snap, my frown shifting into a full out glare.

"Right, how is your mom? Still-"

"Pregnant, yes. Come on, I don't have time for this," I cut him off.

He reaches back to rub his neck. Hmm, nervous. Why would he be nervous? It's not like the egotistical bastard to be nervous about anything. "Uh, well, I don't know how you're going to react to this, but uh... I think I made a mistake."

Well, obviously. Honestly, I don't know what else I was expecting. However, I didn't think of a response. "Yes, August, you did make a fucking mistake. Now tell me how you're going to fix it, if you even are, because I really don't have time for this shit," I sigh, running a hand through my hair and looking at August, who seems surprised at my response.

"Fuck, I don't know what to do about it, Ezra. I just want it to go back to how we were. But not really, but still. I don't fucking know, okay!" he exclaims, rubbing his forehead with his hand, "Look, just come to my house with me and we can talk more there, okay? You can text your mom or whatever."

"Is your dad there?" I ask after a few seconds, making August's face take over a hard look before he shakes his head.

"No, he's not home. This isn't about my dad. For once, this isn't about him."

And maybe that's what compels me to follow him and tell Mom that I'll be out for a little longer than expected. Or maybe I've been planning on staying the whole time. I don't fucking know. And I don't fucking care. All I know is that my innards are telling me to follow August and hear him out, so why not?

So I follow him to his car, gratefully climbing in and feeling the leftover warmth from when heat filled the car. As we drive to his house, I take the opportunity to text Mom and assure her that I'll be fine and back home soon enough. The drive there is virtually silent, both of us unwilling to break the silence slowly smothering us. When we pull up, the silence still looms, but I follow him nonetheless, sighing contentedly at the decadent warmth of his huge, empty house. Mm, empty house. Bad Ezra, the bastard hasn't even apologized yet. No jumping in bed with him until he's at least apologized and maybe groveled a bit. Hmph, if only. I would kill to see such an obnoxious, prideful bastard resort to groveling for little old me.

August leads me inside to his living room, encouraging me to make myself at home and then proceeds to ask if I'd like anything to drink. With a swift shake of the head, I decline, so he joins me on the luscious couch.

"Okay, so, I realize that I made a mistake in telling you that we should stop whatever it is we were doing. And I didn't exactly realize that until recently, but I did all the same, and I don't really know what to do after this," he explains awkwardly, such a sharp contrast to his usual self.

"Well, are you looking for anything past fucking?" I ask, receiving a shrug from the ginger.

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not exactly the best guy for a relationship."

I chuckle sardonically. "Yeah, neither am I. My first and last relationship consisted of a straight boy experimenting with me, coming out, and then getting moved away because his parents couldn't stand the thought of him being with another boy, especially a boy like me."

August shrugs. "I haven't even had one yet. Never seen a reason to. I mean, no one's really interested me enough to make me consider a relationship. I don't think I'd be good for it though. But whatever it is we had, I want that again. I don't know if we'll end up having a relationship or whatever later on, we might, we might not, but either way, I still want to keep doing shit with you and blowing off steam and listen to your lame insults."

I huff. "My insults are not lame, you bag of dicks. But... I-" I start, about to give him the affirmative answer that we both wanted before my ringtone rudely interrupted me. Once I read 'Dad' as the caller, my fingers automatically tap the button, picking up the call.

"Dad? Why are you calling me? Aren't you supposed to-" but alas, my words are cut off again.

"Your mother's in the hospital, Ezra, she's having the baby and it's coming fast. You need to get your ass to the hospital and make her comfortable until I get there, got it?" Oh shit.

"Yeah, I got it. See you later," I say before ending the call and turning to August. "I need to go to the hospital."

"What? Why? What happened?" And before he can spout out any more questions, I answer him.

"My mom's having her baby and Dad's not there yet and I need to be there for her so take me to the hospital now or I will never talk to you again."

With only a few more words, we set off for the local hospital, eager to get there. We rush inside and skid to a stop at the receptionist's desk.

"May I help you?" she asks, looking bored.

"I need to see Jennifer Altair. She's in labor," I rasp, attempting to catch my breath.

"What's your connection to her?" the receptionist inquires.

"She's my mother."

"And his?" she asks, referring to August.

"His aunt," I explain, shooting him a subtle look to go along with the story.

"Right..." she trails off, popping her gum and clicking the keyboard. Once she finally tells us the room number, August and I rush off once more, only slowing when we get to her room. Before we can enter, however, he stops.

"I think I'll just stay in the waiting room. No offense, but I really don't wanna see your mom give birth. Or anyone," he offers, looking slightly disgusted. I shrug in response.

"Whatever. Have fun waiting, loser."

A few hours later, August still hasn't gone home surprisingly, and once Dad finally showed up, looking crazed and frenetic, I joined August in the waiting room. We didn't really talk much, other than small talk about my arriving sibling. Mostly we just sat in silence, but I admit at one point, I started to drift off into sleep, and woke up about an hour later with my head on August's shoulder. Whatever, it was comfortable anyway.

Finally, Dad came rushing out, looking noticeably calmer, and announced that she is here and she is perfect. A few minutes after he goes back in, the nurses and one bundle of human comes out, going wherever they go. So I go in the room, but am promptly shoved back out by Dad who claims that Mom is finally asleep and there's no way in hell he'll let me wake her.

While Mom's asleep, we all go down to the room that they keep the babies in so that we can look at my new baby sister. Damn, that's so weird. But this sense of pride bubbles up in me as I look down at my sister, tiny and fragile, already so fucking loved and cherished. Little Margaret Inez Altair. What a nerd. My nerd.

Once Mom finally woke up, the three of us piled into the room, waiting for the nurse to come with Margaret so Mom could finally hold her. We mostly made small talk, excluding Mom, who was still out of it from the drugs. But then finally Margaret is given to Mom, who holds her and gazed at her with this look of love and emotion that's so overwhelming, I start to feel a little uncomfortable, like I'm walking in on this intimate moment that I'm not supposed to see. So August and I just kind of awkwardly stare at each other and eventually walk out after telling Mom that we're going and the baby is wonderful, etc.

Honestly, I'm surprised that August stayed so long. I guess he just really doesn't wanna go home. Whatever, at least he wasn't that much of an unbearable dick this time. So he drives me home first, and after a few awkward seconds, I ask if he wants to come in for a little while. When he accepts, I attempt to hide my slight chagrin.

I don't bother stopping until we get to my room, opening the door to the place that August has only seen about twice the entire time that we fucked. Usually we stayed at his house, for obvious reasons. But this time is actually for us and not just for him, which makes it almost surreal in a sense. Or maybe just more serious.

August situates himself on my bed while I choose to sit on my chair a few good feet away. I clasp my hands together under my chin and lean forward, staring August in the eyes.

"So, August, I've made a choice and... I'm sorry to say that..." I begin, reveling in the dejection already evident in his eyes, "you are not America's Next Top Model. However, we can fuck again. But if you break it off again, no more. Got it?"

He scowls at me, but the relief is evident on his face and in his body language. "You're so ridiculous. But yeah, okay. So, what do we do now? I suggest that we celebrate us being reunited," he answers, raising an eyebrow suggestively. This time, it's my turn to scowl.

"Fuck you, I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap, so unless you wanna sit here and watch me sleep the whole time—which I highly suggest you not do—you're gonna go home," I tell him firmly, standing up to walk over to the pouting ginger. His form tightens in attempts to make it harder for me to make him leave, but that's easy to overpower. Once I finally make it to him, I look down at the rebellious boy before reaching down and pushing him off my bed, laying down where his ass was residing only seconds ago.

"Leave," I command, laughing internally. His auburn hair pops up over the side as his deep blue eyes meet mine as waves crash inside his irises. A dangerous smirk dominates his face as he readies himself to pounce. Oh shit. I don't have time to move out of the way before he leaps over my bed, landing almost directly on me. August then proceeds to promptly fly his fingers up and down my sides, drawing deep, tortured laughs from my open mouth.

"You son of a bitch!" I exclaim in between laughs, almost choking. And then I start kicking. My feet meet his sides and torso multiple times, but it barely fazes him. Finally, I gather a small sense of composure and seize his hands, tearing them from my weak spots. My glare meets a look of extreme amusement, even as I threat to cut his hands off.

"Great, now I'm even more tired, you bastard," I manage, still breathing heavily. But my counterpart only leans down, stealing even more ragged breath from my parted lips as he connects his and mine. For the first time in a while, the kiss is simple and sweet. Damn, son, I didn't even know you could kiss with anything other than anger. I'm not sure which one I like better, but I could definitely get used to being kissed that way.

Shit, no, I can't. Because odds are, moods like this aren't going to happen very often for August. And I can't start to get attached. No. Shut up, Ezra. Stop thinking. Just... whatever happens happens and that's that. Stop thinking. You'll only get yourself into trouble.

By the time I come out of my daze, August has pulled away and is now looking down at me, his expression filled with both concern and almost embarrassment. Rolling my eyes internally, I lace my fingers in his silky hair, gentle unlike the other times when I've roughly pulled while deeply in the throes of some sort of passion, and pull his head down to mine in one last kiss before releasing his head.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I'll just be going," August faltered, looking even more embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. With a short nod from me, he turns around and leaves after murmuring something about texting me later. What a nerd.

When I drift off minutes later, the corners of my lips are stretched up slightly in a small, content smile that's retained until I awake hours later.

And maybe when I wake up, I can't admit that my dreams are lighter and smoother than they have been for the past month. And maybe when August texts, I can't admit that a smile is more frequent on my face than the former frown. But I don't focus on admitting anything or thinking about the consequences or the implications of anything anymore because I'm sure that if I do, the feeling of warmth I usually experience when I'm immersed in August Vega will fade into a sense of fear and dejection. Why think when you can feel?

And trust me, I feel a lot of things when we're together. Sometimes it makes me nervous, but I can tell that he's going through the same thing, and it soothes my nerves a bit.

Since we've been together again, he's been opening up a little more as well. It was almost awkward the first time it happened; we had just caught our breath from our orgasms when he looked over at me and told me that his dad called him his real name for the first time in years. I didn't really delve any deeper, the uncertainty of the situation preventing my lips from opening for anything other than inhales and and exhales.

The next few times were a little easier, and then it became a common thing for him to start spilling his secrets. Sometimes it made me feel like a psychiatrist, but sometimes it made me seem like something deeper; almost a friend. I wouldn't go so far as to say lover, but still. There was something that compelled him to start opening up that wasn't there before. And truth be told, I don't really care about finding out what it was.

I did, however, find out what his real name is. Mitchell. I haven't exactly found out why he decided to go by August, but I have a feeling that it has to do with his mom, who I also know nothing about. But I figure that I'll find out when he feels like letting me know. I'm not exactly dying to know. His personal life is none of my concern, just like mine is none of his concern. That's the main rule that we both respect no matter what. Otherwise, we don't really care about much, ie insulting each other, sex positions, etc. Overall, our encounters are very relaxed (other than the angry sex) and smooth. Sometimes we even just decide to hang out without doing anything. It took a while, but we started to finally feel more comfortable around each other.

After that, it was mainly smooth sailing until we finally came to the main question: Are we gonna be in a legitimate relationship or are we just going to keep doing whatever we're doing? August and I both ended up having a difficult time answering that question, but it came to us time and time again until we decided to stop ignoring the situations and implications and finally come to a conclusion that we should try out an actual relationship, albeit a very slow and experimental one.

It was almost ironic how soon the budding relationship began to bloom after our reconciliation, even after August had expressed explicitly that he wasn't sure if anything would ever happen between us. But either way, I'm content with the results, and I believe that maybe we can even turn into something really good. We might butt heads often, but at least we're never bored with each other, and we never fight in actuality. It's more of a lame bickering or bitching.

I actually expected our similar personalities to cause a major clash in many circumstances, but maybe it's the similarity that's caused things to go so well; because of the understanding of what the other feels and how they communicate. It sounds really dumb, but maybe us both being dicks to each other is for the best. I think that if I was with someone more shy and reserved, they would end up getting hurt by blunt and usually selfish nature, and both of us would get hurt. So being with someone who's a dick as well is what I really need.

Or maybe I just need his dick. Okay, let's just pretend like I never said that.

So I've rambled on about the aspects of my flawed relationship with that shit for brains for long enough. Anyway, Margaret's a fucking adorable baby. Luckily for all three of us, she's a pretty easy baby to manage and sleeps a lot, so none of us are woken up during the night by blood-curdling screaming.

All in all, things have been pretty good. Hung's even calmed down a lot and has proved himself as a cool guy. He barely even cared when I told him about August, which surprised me a bit, but I'm not saying I wasn't relieved, because I was. And now, I would even go so far as to call him my friend, even if there's still those now rare instances where he just comes on a little too strong.

For once in my life, things seem to actually be going well. And that's the bad thing, because when things start to go well is usually when things start to turn bad. It'll only be a matter of time until something tears everything apart, and I don't even want to think about what it'll be, so for the meantime, I'll just focus on the newfound happiness instead of the impending fall.


	4. Four

About six months after August and I became serious, I was sure that things were going well; in fact, I was even considering the fact that I was possible falling for him. Hell, I was thinking that he could even be falling for me as well. Things were going better than ever. Until the nightmares began. Horrible, terrifying nightmares, worse than I'd ever had in my entire life, and every time I slept for more than a few hours. It got to the point that I deliberately kept myself up just so that I wouldn't have to experience the atrocities in my nightmares. What were they?

They were about death. More specifically, me dying with August standing on the side, doing nothing but looking torn. And every night, right before I finally blacked out into death, I would wake up, breathing heavily and nearly killing myself trying not to scream and wake up Margaret and in turn, Mom. I never really told August, but then again, I'm not sure what he'd say if I did tell him. It doesn't really affect me much during the days though. I usually don't have any problem with meeting up with at our bridge like we do mostly every day.

But ever since those nightmares started, this insane sense of fear has been pumped into me so that whenever I think of August, I can't help but shiver, and not in the good way. Of course, when we're together, it never crosses my mind. Even when we're not having sex, I usually don't think about it. In fact, when I'm around him is what I look forward to everyday. Maybe it's some twisted, deranged psychology that's fucking with my head. Who even knows. But recently, the nightmares have been getting more tame, fortunately.

Otherwise, August and I have gotten substantially closer since we've been officially together. Like how I found how his mom died by drowning when he was 4 during the month of August, which was ironically his middle name and the month he was supposed to be born in, so he took it over as a tribute to his mom. And, he argued, it also just felt more natural. He never really saw himself as a Mitchell. I agreed; I could never see him as one either. Also, his dad's always on his ass because he wants August to become a lawyer like him, and if not, then August is out of the house and out of his trust fund. So when the fall starts again, his dad expects him to go to law school or get disowned.

I, on the other hand, am taking a year off before going to college. Since we've been together, we've spent more time out of his house than before, seeing as this time we're focused on each other instead of his dad. But since Mom's usually at home with Margaret, we end up spending more time just in the forest hanging out than really doing anything else.

Sometimes Hung comes with us, but it's obvious that Hung and August aren't exactly friendly to each other, for obvious reasons. But whenever Jacqueline comes with us, it's easier to hang out all together without any lingering hostility. She doesn't even really do anything, just mainly gives off this calming vibe that soothes the atmosphere.

Things were going pretty well until about two weeks before summer ended and August would be going to the local college taking law courses. It was a normal, hot-as-balls day in August (heh) and I was about to hang out with Hung. But he never came. I texted him multiple times, getting more irritated and worried as the minutes, and then hours, passed. Finally, I got a call from Jacqueline, sounding upset rather than her usual apathetic tone, which was a direct indicator that something was wrong.

"Jackie, what's wrong?" I ask, concern lacing my voice.

"I-It's Hung. He's dead, August. H-He drowned in that small pond near the park next to our house," she chokes out, freezing my blood in my veins as shock and despair flows through my body.

"What?" I manage out as I'm hit with a feeling of surrealism like this can't be real, no, not my friend, not Hung.

"Y-Yeah, it looks like he fell in and hit his head on a rock and..." she trails off into a hiccup.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Jackie. I-I'll call you back, okay?"

Once I end the call, I mechanically dial a number on speed dial, feeling a small sense of relief at the familiar voice. "Ezra? What's up?"

"Come over, August. Now," I force out before my emotions grab a hold of my composure.

"What's wrong? Why do you sound so-" he gets out before I cut him off.

"Come. Over. I'll explain later, just-"

"Okay, okay, I'm on my way. Be there soon." The line went dead and I lay my phone down before finding my lighter and pack of cigarettes. I'm sure that in a few hours, the full pack will be painfully emptier.

Within minutes, August is in my room, consoling me, who is inwardly distraught and outwardly apathetic. "Do you wanna go to the forest? Get out of this house?" he asks gently, drawing a small nod from me. Taking my hand, he leads me outside, leaving his car in the driveway, leading me to the conclusion that we're walking like usual. We don't talk much the way there, but his concern is obvious in his gentle hold on my hand and his close proximity, much closer than usual.

When we get there, again, not much is said.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks softly, sitting down on the dry forest ground. As I sit next to him, he reaches up and pulls me over, plopping me down on his lap and wrapping his arms around my waist loosely. I shrug, taking another drag of my cigarette. He takes the stick from me and takes a drag of his own before snuffing it out on a nearby stump.

"Wanna smoke then? I brought my pipe just in case," he offers, taking out the small pipe from his jacket pocket. After a few seconds, I nod, resting my head on his shoulder, still refusing to show anything other than stoicism. A few tokes later, I'm feeling a little better, now starting to feel both the weed and the death of my only friend other than August hit me. Well, not feeling better per se, but feeling in general.

"So, what happened? I thought you were supposed to be hanging out with Hung today," he wonders innocently. Of course he doesn't expect me to completely freeze, paralyzed at the reminder of my deceased Chinese friend.

"Ezra? Are you okay? Come on, talk to me," August inquires, his voice laced with worry. I barely notice the tears already filling my eyes at an exponential rate. "Was it Hung? Did you two have a fight or something?"

I shake my head in the negative. "Hung... he's..." I trail off, physically unable to finish the sentence.

"He's what? Come on, Ezra baby, it's okay. Just tell me what happened so I can make you smile again," he replies, attempting to coerce me to spill my problem. I bury my head in his neck, inhaling his calming, familiar scent of fall and pot and comfort. His neck grows damp with my tears.

"He's dead, August," I rasp, releasing a choked sob. His grip on my waist tightens and he puts the pipe down on a nearby stump before enveloping me in both of his arms firmly.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry. Do you wanna talk about it?" With my head still buried in his neck and bodied molded to his, I shrug my shoulder, taking in another shuddering breath.

"I don't know, I just... he was my only friend, y'know. And yeah, sometimes he got on my nerves, but he was my friend and what the fuck did he do to deserve to die?" I choke out, eyes abalaze with anger and confusion and grief.

"Some things just happen and there's nothing you can do about it. It's fucking terrible, yeah, but no one said life was fair. What happened to him was horrible, but there's nothing ese to do but just mourn him and move on, right?" August reassures me, running his hands through my hair in an attempt to placate me. Maybe it's him, maybe it's the weed working its magic, but I finally start to calm down in his comfortable embrace.

"Yeah," I sniff, not entirely sure of his words. Then again, I guess I'm more focused on his soothing tone than his words chock full of hopeful alleviation. For about twenty minutes, we just kinda sit there in silence, too embarrassed and prideful to say anything else, instead choosing to focus on the simplicity of the darkening forest and its inhabitants. "Can you take me home?" I rasp, voice scratchy from lack of use and previous crying.

We finally pull away from the embrace as he nods and places one last soft kiss on my lips. Seconds later, he rises from the forest floor, taking me with him before picking up the pipe and depositing it in his pocket once again. The two of us walk in silence for awhile until we reach my house again (though I barely notice). August has to hold me in place to prevent me from wandering off in unison with my wandering mind.

"Do you want me to come in?" he asks once I snap back into reality. Thinking for a few seconds, I shake my head stoically.

"I'll be fine," I assure him, knocking his shoulder with mine. He knocks mine back softly in return.

"You sure?" he asks, to which I nod.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll, um... I'll see you later, okay?"

With a hesitant nod, he places a kiss on my cheek and climbs in his car, sending me one last hesitant look before driving away. Releasing a sigh, I drag my feet to my room, falling soundly onto my bed, not even bothering to take off my shoes or jacket before conking out. This day's been too long for me to care.

The next few weeks are hard, to say the least. It's been difficult getting through the day without the boy that made the days better. Yeah, I have a couple of other friends, but... they're not Hung. Jacqueline and I have been hanging out more often though. I guess we're just trying to fill each other's void that Hung left behind. His funeral was almost unbearable. It's horrible to think how badly I took him for granted while he was here, but now that he's gone, it's like nothing can be the same anymore.

August, of course, has been helping me cope, but even still, things have been just so arduous. It's been a little more difficult getting up in the mornings, but I still do it and I still pass the days without letting things affect me too much. That's always been a problem of mine; either letting things affect me too much or forcing myself to not feel anything at all. Sometimes it's difficult to find any gray area between the two.

Now that August has been going to law school and leaving me alone most days, things have been more difficult. Again, I didn't realize how dependent I was on someone until I stopped spending as much time with them. It's ridiculous, honestly. But I try to be productive in my time, blah blah blah, who even cares? No one wants to hear about my stupid thoughts and simple day-to-day mannerisms and routines. So I guess I'll just skip around until whenever.

Okay, so it was one day while August and I were hanging out. During the weekend, of course. His dad started to get more and more demanding to the point where we barely saw each other during the week at all. I suppose that me fueling August's rebellious fire isn't exactly helping his dad's cause at all, but honestly, I couldn't care less about what his dad wants, especially since it causes August so much grief and anger.

Anyway, we were hanging out on our bridge, just fucking around and smoking a little, when August got the magnificent idea to cool off in the river. So, there's me, having slight flashbacks to the diminishing, but still prevalent, nightmares, and totally freaking out internally. August is none the wiser, as usual, the oblivious little prince he is. So August of course leaps in majestically, sending small splashes onto the surrounding bank. I walk over, content with sitting on the ground and watching my boyfriend swim around happily. As I'm walking over, a small smile on my face and happiness in my heart for the first time in a while, by some greater powers above, I fucking trip and fall into the water. And of course, it can't just end there. I also end up hitting my head on a rock, blurring my vision and sense of reality.

All I remember after that is August yelling something and then everything going black.

When I wake up, my head is resting on the lap of my lover, the rest of my body spread out on his extravagant bed. Wonderful bed. My green eyes stare owlishly up at him, meeting the ocean looming in August's own eyes, a slight hint of violent tinging his irises.

"What happened?" I yawn, blinking slowly and stretching slightly. August runs his hands through my hair, bringing the dampness of my hair and general body to my attention.

"You fell in the river," he croaks, "You've been out for a few hours, but other than that, you seem basically fine. Scared the living shit out of me though."

"Sorry," I offer with a weak smile. He just shakes his head softly and kisses my forehead.

"Don't be sorry. Just be careful in the future. I don't want to lose you," he trails off, his face revealing the vulnerability that he rarely ever shows. Careful of the atmosphere, I merely nod and slowly sit up to give those soft, familiar lips a kiss.

"I promise I'll be more careful," I assure him after a few seconds, leaning my head on his shoulder and sighing.

"Good," he replies shortly, placing another short kiss on the top of my head and wrapping his arm around my waist. We sit together in a comforting silence until I hear a buzz coming from a familiar pair of jeans on the floor: my jeans. At that moment, I look down notice that August must have put me in a more dry pair of clothes. Anyway, I pick up the phone and look through the various texts from my mom. Oh shit.

Before she can freak out any more, I call her. Of course, she picks up on the first ring. "Ezra?! Where the hell have you been?! Do you know how fucking worried I was about you when you hadn't come home for hours, and then you weren't picking up your phone and oh god, you could've been dead in some ditch for all I knew!" I cut her off before she really goes off on a tangent.

"Mom, I'm okay. I just accidentally fell in the river and passed out for a few hours, but I'm at August's house and I'm safe. I'm come home as soon as I can, okay?" The only response I receive is a choked sob and a small 'okay' from Mom before I hang up and turn to my boyfriend.

"August, can-" I start until he cuts me off.

"Yeah, I'll grab your clothes and we'll go," he says while nodding. I shoot him a grateful look before following a few steps behind him. As we pass his dad, the bastard scowls at me, but I'm far too tired to accost the dick who's been causing August so many problems.

After a short drive, I arrive in front of my house, giving August one last kiss before exiting the car and walking to the front door shakily, anxiety filling my veins. It usually takes a lot to set me off, but when one of the only people I actually care about might be pissed at me, yeah, I get a little nervous. The moment I shut the door, Mom looks up from her spot on the couch, revealing her tear stained visage, to my chagrin. Her face holds a strange mix of relief and anger and I can't even imagine what I must look like to her, eyes wide and hair a mess.

As she walks up to me, wraps her arms around my torso and thunks her head against my chest, she lets out a sigh. "Goddammit, Ezra. Goddammit," she whispers as I wrap my arms around her in return. Unsure of what to say, I just awkwardly hold on until she pulls away to glare up at me.

"I can't even think of what to say to you, Ezra. I mean, Jesus Christ," Mom sighs, running a hand over her forehead and furrowing her eyebrows.

"I know, but it was an accident. I mean, I just slipped and-"

"And ended up unconscious for hours! Damn, Ezra, I know that you're technically an adult now, but you shouldn't be so stupid about these things!" she snaps, but I only see the overwhelming worry on her face.

"Sorry, that's not what I wanted to say..." she adds seconds later.

"No, it's fine, I know. I already promised August I'd be more careful in the future. I mean, I'm not usually that clumsy, right? It was just an accident and it probably won't happen again," I shrug. Mom's mouth is in a firm straight line as she nods and looks back at Dad sitting on the couch.

"Yeah, okay, just... go to sleep. You need some rest after that... ordeal. I love you, okay? I'm not mad or anything, I'm just-"

"Yeah, I get it. I love you, too, Mom," I explain before calmly walking upstairs to my room. Opening the door, I barely take a glance before grabbing my cigarettes, phone, earbuds, and blanket, and heading up on the roof so that I can have some peace rather than listen to the sounds of Mom and Dad talking about me or Mom crying.

The setting sun throws colors carelessly over me, lighting up my downcast face and everything around me. There are so many times where I wish that I had any artistic capability. So the sun waves goodbye to the sky with a wave of purples and pinks and yellows and oranges as the moon gladly greets the stars and the world with a luminous, white smile. My frenetic thoughts set just as the sun does; a peculiar calm washes over me with the moon, a halcyon undulating soothing the chaos brewing in my subconscious.

An hour later, Mom and Dad finally retire to sleep and I realize that there's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight, so instead of sitting around like a bump on a log, I decide to walk to the same that nearly drowned, alone unlike the past few months where I've always been accompanied by August.

Being especially cautious, I sit criss-cross on the ground next to the river. Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth and start spouting out words, speaking to the gurgling water as if it was Hung. And it might be me just being delusional, but I can swear that I can hear the river chuckle and gargle like it was meant, like it was Hung, like it understood. Nah. I'm probably just delusional.

So I bid the river farewell and reluctantly stagger home, nearly dead on my feet. By the time I return to my window, laying face down, spread eagle on my bed, the sun is nearly ready to rise again and wave goodbye to the other side of the world in preparation for the moon to give some relief from life with the protection of that wide, incandescent smile.

The next thing I notice is Mom standing over me, staring down disapprovingly at me. "Get up, Ezra, it's already 2 pm and we have a busy day ahead of us," she tuts, pulling my covers from my body, leaving my body a shivering mess.

"Mom, what the hell?" I grumble, rubbing my eyes.

"Ugh okay, I'm up. What do you mean 'busy day'?" I ask, yawning at the end and sitting up on my bed, touching my bare feet to the carpeted floor and reaching for a nearby sweatshirt.

"Hmm, you'll see," she replies before making an about face and promptly walking out of my room. I roll my eyes fondly at her retreating form before standing up and closing the door to retain some sense of privacy for changing clothes. Minutes later, I meet Mom in the kitchen, looking around with a look of confusion.

"Where's Maggie? Is she asleep?" I ask, confused by the lack of baby and noise from said baby.

"No, I convinced your grandparents to take her for the day so that we could spend some quality time together without any distractions. I know it's been a while since we've really spent time together as mother and son since Mags was born, so why the hell not?" she explains, her face not leaving any room for discussion.

"Sounds great."

So for the next few hours, we drive around, even stopping at a nearby park and eating our recently acquired Taco Bell. Hell yea, Taco Bell. After we finish with our disgusting, yet delicious, food, we just walk around a little, making small talk about the stuff in our lives.

At the moment, she's laughing uproariously at something dumb that August did a few weeks ago. "Oh, that boy is all kinds of dumb," she mutters out, shaking her head. I just nod fondly, smiling slightly. What a bastard...

Seconds later, Mom's laughter dies down and I look over and am surprised to see her smiling softly at me. "You really love him, don't you?" she asks, causing me to stop and freeze for a second, then shrug at her.

"I don't really know. I'm not sure what love is supposed to feel like, but I feel like being with him is the closest thing I can ever come to knowing what it feels like."

Mom smiles wider and rubs my arm soothingly. "Oh, my baby's growing up and saving China," she teases half heartedly. I play along to humor her.

"Mom, being maybe in love isn't as important as saving China," I quip. But she shakes her head in response.

"I disagree. Either way, you're growing up and making your mom proud," she argues.

"Don't worry, I don't. What someone else does has no affect on me because we're not the same people and we're not under the same circumstances, so I don't really care," I assure her. Mom just sighs at me, smiling.

"I can only hope that your sister will come out as great as you."

"Surely, Mom. I mean, she is being raised by you," I grin, nudging her arm.

"Oh, Ezra, you're just too good to me." And I leave that hanging in the air while thinking 'No, Mom, we're good to each other.'

Three weeks later, August and I are laying on his roof, much higher than the roof on my house, taking tokes while looking up at the stars under his warmest blanket. Mostly we're just talking dumb shit until August brings up Doritos.

"Damn, I love Doritos so fucking much," August swoons, drawing intense laughter from my lungs coated in chemicals.

"Like, there's nothing that I love more in this world than Doritos. Well, apart from you, but still. Like basically nothing compares to that first bite into a nice, cheesy Dorito," he continues, completely oblivious to the fact that he just confessed his love to me while fangirling over Doritos in a weed-induced high. What a fuck stud. No, really. I can never say that being with August is boring.

About halfway through his continuous rambling about Doritos and the explicit things he wished he could do with them, his eyes widen and look over at me slowly.

"Wait, did I say what I thought I said?" he asks. I have to stifle the urge to facepalm then and there and just resort to sighing.

"If by your declaration of love, yeah, you did. Like, 25 minutes ago," I affirm, choking down a chortle at his startled expression.

"Well... I meant it though. I do love you," he asserts, searching my face for a reaction.

"If I knew what love was, I'd tell you..." I trail off, taking in his dejected expression that brings me to stumble over a quick save to spare his feelings. "But I think that if I knew what it was, I'd probably say I love you, too. I mean, what I feel now is the strongest I've ever felt towards anyone before. Now stop looking at me like I kicked your puppy in front of you."

After his tiny brain registers my words, he doesn't hesitate to lean over and kiss me, still grinning that dopey smile. "I love you," he croons happily, bringing a slight blush to my cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah," I roll my eyes playfully.

"Can you..." August trails off almost ashamedly.

"Can I what?" I press. His cheeks darken slightly to match mine.

"Can you just... say it back? Just this once, I swear. To humor me," he asks, anxiety evident all over his body. I just press my lips to his in a short peck before pulling away and taking a small breath.

"Yeah, okay, I... love you too," I mumble, a whisper but still loud enough for August to hear. And his reaction to it makes it well worth it. A heart-warming grin nearly splits his face in half for a seconds before he digs his head in my neck and leaves me to revel in the rare instance of vulnerability and cuteness he'll ever allow me to witness.

But the weird thing is that saying it to him didn't feel weird at all. If anything, it felt right. Well, I guess I have my answer there. And honestly, I'm not entirely surprised. Maybe my subconscious has been telling me for months that I've been in love with that bastard.

As I run my fingers through his silky hair, I nod my head slightly, confirming my thoughts and feeling a sense of warmness spread through me as he burrows himself deeper into my neck and chest. Yep, I definitely love this idiot.


	5. Five

And now to focus our attention on the man of the moment. No, not August, but rather his cuntbox of a father. You see, recently, he's been a total dick about us being together. I mean, us being blatantly obvious about it isn't really helping much, but still. It shouldn't be an issue. But he proceeds to openly insult me and our relationship to the point where we have to leave before one of us hits his dad.

What I didn't expect, however, was a knock at my window one winter night during a rare night of sleep. I grumble all the way to the window, grumpy from my awakening. But I immediately sober when August falls through my window halfway on my floor and half into my arms, looking completely broken. Tears are filling his eyes, almost at the apex of tipping over, and before I can say anything, he buries himself into my arms and lets out a broken, pained sob into my chest.

"He really did it this time," he chokes out between ripping sobs that tear at my heart with every tear and every sob. I pull away slightly to check his body for bruises or blood, not completely sure what he's referring to. "He fucking banned me from seeing you, Ezra. He said-" he forced out, taking a breath and a gulping sob before starting again, "He said that 'all this foolishness is going straight to your head' and 'you were never like this before that piece of shit' and shit like that and I thought he was going to start bitching like usual, but he fucking... he fucking..." August trails out, looking too pained to continue.

Everything basically slowed down the moment he first explained the punishment as disbelief and confusion coursed through me. But then, I was sure that he wasn't joking and oh my god what do we do? August keeps rambling on through his tears for a few seconds before I grab his chin and stare into his eyes.

"What are you going to do? Are you gonna stay there or do you wanna stay here or something?" I inquire, eager for answers to soothe my frantic mind. He freezes, rifling through his thoughts for a solution.

"I would stay with you, I swear, but..." he starts, taking a breath, "I... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I lived off of you guys. I mean, I think that if I stay with Dad, I just need to get through the rest of this school year, and then we can do something, we can run away, we can be together," he explains, eyes bright with hopeful ideas.

I grab his soft, sharp cheeks in my hands, staring at him deeply. "Are you completely sure? We would be completely fine with you being here." aka please run away so that I can still see you and not have you live with that dick. But August shakes his head.

"No, I just... my pride won't let me. And it's just a few months. We'll be fine, darling. Because when it's all over, it'll be well worth it, because we'll be happy. We'll be free," August breathes, lost in his thoughts.

With a short, affirmative nod, I walk us to my bed, letting August curl against my slightly before molding my body to his and breathing in my favorite scent—him. Oh god, that sounds so stupid. Ah, hell, I don't even care. I can be as cheesy as I want to with my boyfriend that I won't see for months starting probably tomorrow.

Now completely entwined together, August and I drift off together, protected by the luminous, impending grin of the moon.

In the morning, I wake up angry. Angry that August is leaving, angry that we won't be able to see each other. The few hours we spend together are filled with my passive aggressive comments and August's oblivious reactions to them. Right before he leaves, however, I snap.

"God, I wish we didn't have to be apart," he whispers into my hair. And with only my inner selfish nature in mind, I bite.

"Yeah, well, we wouldn't have to be if you would stay here. I mean, it seems like you don't even fucking love me enough to stay here with me." And I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, I'd fucked up. "Wait, shit, no, I—that's not what I meant," I add anxiously. August shakes his head.

"Whatever, Ezra. Remember that I'm doing this for us. I mean, I was planning on slowly taking out money from Dad until the end so we could have enough to start a new life. But if you're gonna be like this, then damn, how are we gonna be able to make it through this? Whatever, I'm leaving. I'll get in touch with you sometime," he shoots back, walking out of the house. Before he can get in his car, I run out, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.

"No, I know I was being a bitch, but don't you dare leave like that," I seethe, harshly kissing him before he can emit any kind of response. As our teeth clash painfully together, I clutch his shoulders, hoping to absorb him into me to last through our hiatus. Finally, the kiss starts to lessen in strength and we reluctantly pull away, breathing roughly.

"Okay..." August hesitates, "Uh, I'll call you when I can. Love you."

"Yeah, love you, too," I whisper back, eyes following his graceful movements into his car until he gives one last wave and drives away for God knows how long. I make the short journey back into my room, grabbing the pillow his head was previously resting on and bringing it to my own face in a moment of weakness to inhale the intoxicating scent.

I walk over to lock the door, checking that no one was near, and once on my bed again, I take the pillow back into my arms. The pillows and blankets become almost like a wall around me, wrapping me in its comforting embrace until I finally fall victim to sleep, still clutching the pillow to my chest.

It's safe to say that the next few weeks are definitely the worst that I've ever experienced. I mean, it's one thing to be alone and be used to it, but going from being around people constantly and having that ripped away from you is just... excruciating, to say the least. Most of my time is spent in my room, lamenting silently to myself pathetically.

And then one day, I decided to stop living in this stupid mentality of self-pity and that living without August for a few months won't be the end of the world. It's better to just move on and do other things for the time being than beat myself up about it for no reason. I mean, at least he's not dead or moving away or anything.

So I pick myself up, clean up my room and my body, and take a nice walk. No, not to the river. Well, not at first, at least. But honestly, the river is calming and there's nothing else to do in this damn town than get high and fuck around. That's the problem with small towns. Everyone ends up fucked up because everyone is so bored. Either you fuck around, obsess over football or religion, or hole yourself in until you can away. And I feel sorry for those poor bastards who never end up getting away and doing something with their lives.

That's what happened with Mom and Dad. They were gonna leave to college, have fun, experience things. But then I came along and fucked everything up. I've long stopped feeling guilty over it, just because Mom always begs me not to, arguing that she wanted to keep me and if she didn't want to, she wouldn't have, so I don't need to feel bad. And well, I'd do anything for my mom.

I can only hope that our plans work out and I get to leave this town behind and start new with August by my side. I'd give anything to just meet up with him and run now, but I know that not waiting and preparing isn't the best way to go.

As time passes, it gets a little easier to cope with the crippling loneliness, but it's not easy in the least bit. I continue to miss August terribly, and the weekly phone calls only barely soothe my sorrow. But August assures me that he's been taking money from his dad slowly and not very much, but by the time summer rolls around, he'll have garnered more than enough to support us until we can get jobs. It's been a little difficult talking lately. Mostly he's stressed about school and I'm stressed about everything else. On some occasions, one of us ends up snapping at the other and we hang up and call back a few days later to apologize. Actually, it seems to be happening more often than carefree talks.

Weeks pass and things grow more and more strained, both of us fed up with the situation and becoming more and more angry at everything.

And then, the silver lining in the shitty ass situation. One day, August calls me, excited and cheerful for the first time in at least a month. He then proceeds to explain that his dad was getting so pissed at his snide comments and anger that he agreed to let us meet once a month as long as August isn't failing any classes, and if he is, then he'll be locked inside with no way to get out.

All I can feel is joy and hope for the first time in weeks at his words. I mean, fuck yes, even if it for once a month, that's way better than nothing. And I make a note in my head to make sure that the night is the best I can possible make it.

Two weeks later, August calls me once again, informing me that his dad set the day for the second Saturday of each month. Basically August can leave whenever if he's finished with his homework and has to be back before his dad comes home from church on Sunday. And I'm not even mad he only gets to stay for a night because damn that's way better than nothing and holy shit after being alone, I get to see him again. I get to see my August.

And of course, then the second Saturday is fast approaching and I'm still figuring out how to make the night perfect for him; for us. By the time Saturday comes, I'm even starting to get a bit nervous along with my eagerness to see my forcibly estranged boyfriend. But then it's time to go and I grab my backpack filled with supplies and head off, pace quick and eyes bright in anticipation to see those ocean blue eyes and auburn hair. I pass by the familiar stores, waving to the people I know so well as they laugh at my cheerful responses and continue on with their lives. The walk is short and brisk as I focus completely on the night that August and I are going to have, my groin starting to react slightly as well.

A smirk, previously native to my face, is overtaken by a genuine smile the second that my sight lands on a head of hair the color of decadent red wine mixed with the red of blood rushing to cheeks in excitement and happiness. The color of August. Our eyes meet, ocean blue and forest green, for a few seconds and before we can say anything, I rush over, tackling him into the ground and laying on his chest, sighing softly as his body makes contact with mine.

Home sweet home.

"Excited much?" August teases as his hands run up and down my body, taking in everything he's been missing out on for the past two months. I scowl playfully in return.

"I could say the same thing," I reply in regards to his hungry touches. After taking a few deep breaths, I reluctantly stand up, taking August's hand in mine and pulling him up as well.

"So, where are we going? I hope that we're not gonna stay here all night in January winter," he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist. I lean further into the touch, shaking my head.

"No, Mom and Dad agreed to stay at my grandparents' tonight and let us have the house for the night as long as we find somewhere else to do it for the rest of the nights," I explain lowly, burrowing my head into his neck to nip and suck at the exposed flesh, cold, yet still pulsing vibrantly under my tongue.

"Then let's go now before we end up staying here and not taking advantage of the warm house," August suggests, hurrying us to his car and in turn, my house. The warmth of the house is a warm relief to the piercing winter wind. Not much is said as we quickly make our way up to my room and begin the process of what we've definitely familiarized ourselves with by now. Part of me wants to take it slow and appreciate the body I've missed, but the bigger part of me just wants it hard and fast and now.

And after we're done and my body is already sore, August leans over and begins again, languidly and gently, finally in no rush. Just to show me how much he's missed me. And my body responds with how much I've missed him in return. He soothes my pain, physical and emotional alike. And I realize that no matter how long we're apart, the reunification will be well worth. He will be well worth it.

In the morning, when we wake, I fetch a wrapped package from under my bed, throwing it on his still naked body, waiting for him to open it. He opens the present with curiosity written on his face, and then joy as he finally sees the gift itself.

"Oh my god, this is so awesome, Ezra!" he exclaims, grinning, holding the soft hoodie to his chest. I shrug at him.

"I just remember that you always wanted a band hoodie, so there you go, loser. And when you get home, look in the pocket. Not now, you fucking idiot, what did I tell you?" I scold, slapping his hand, receiving a glare and a slight pout. What a child.

And then we start bickering about his inability to get me a belated Christmas present. Perhaps if I was a better person, I would insist that he wouldn't get me anything, but damn I love presents. Either way, I press him jokingly for one, knowing that he already recognizes how much of a dick I really am, so why hide it? It ends in an insult war and him pretending to be angry.

But neither of us mean it and I know that when he plugs in the flash drive and listens to the songs, he'll smile at my penchant to be a hopeless romantic.

It's almost disappointing how the next weeks are still filled with stress, albeit less than usual. We still end up bitching at each other, but I feel the apologies get less sincere and more forced for the sake of our delicate relationship. But no matter what, I know that it'll all be worth it at the end, as long as August and I are together.

Naturally, I end up fed up with the fighting and decide to confront the main obstacle in our relationship: his father. Halfway between our first and second meeting, I find myself knocking on their door in the middle of day, hoping that my plan will work, although I doubt it. But still, might as well try.

A few seconds after I knock, his father opens the door, immediately glaring at me as soon as he sees me. Of course.

"What do you want?" he grunts, looking bothered.

"Can I just talk to you?" I ask, trying not to lose my temper already.

"We can talk out here," he answers, crossing his arms. Fine, then.

"Alright," I force out through my teeth, "I think that you should unban August."

"And why would I do that?" August's dad replies snidely, looking down at me from his nose.

"Because if you keep him locked up, he'll just get more mad and it's not like he's not going to be motivated just because he's not locked up. I mean, just let us be together," I almost plead, but it barely has an affect on the ridiculous man.

"I couldn't care less what August feels. It's for his own good to be away from a poison like you and in an environment where he can be focused on things that are important instead of on little flings like you," he explains, waving his hand to emphasize the fleeting relationship between us.

"Oh right, fling. That's why we've been together for almost a year," I snap, anger building.

"Yes, fling. My son needs to sort things out himself and realize that he needs to get over this phase and settle down with a nice girl and get a job at a law firm and be successful just as I did," the oblivious man replies, caught in his own thoughts.

"If August is really straight, then why does he love sucking dick so much?" I seethe, laughing to myself, but still pretty pissed.

"You don't know what you're talking about, boy!"

And then I realize that nothing can really come from the meeting. This guy isn't gonna change his mind and August and I are just going to have to keep meeting once a month until summer. Unless his dad decides to completely ban him from seeing me at all. Shit, he'd better not. No, calm down, Ezra. Everything will be fine. Everything will be alright. In the end, it'll all be worth it. Even with all the fighting and bullshit, it'll all be worth it.

Yeah, it'll be fine. Because finally, I'll finally know what it's like to be really happy with someone. To be free, even. But for now, just get through this. Just walk away, Ezra, just fucking walk away.

And so I do. Even with August's dad trying to provoke me, I just ignore him and walk on. Well, I flip him off, but come on, he deserves it for being an oblivious dick who doesn't even care about his son's happiness. He's lucky I didn't bust his ass for it.

Hours later, August texts me. Shit, I hope his dad didn't ban him completely from seeing me.

Thankfully, he didn't. August was just asking if something happened today, since his dad seemed to be muttering under his breath about me and looking super pissed. I play it off as nothing, explaining that I went and asked him to lift the ban, but failed. August seemed a bit reluctant to believe me, but let it slide nonetheless.

And so we continue on, talking and joking around, hints of the stress put on our relationship subtle but present. I choose to ignore them and focus on the joyous voice of my lover for as long as we talk, which turns out being a good few hours until his dad pulls him away to do homework like the piece of shit he is.

Weeks come and go and things only go downhill at an exponential rate, sending warnings through my head of 'Mayday mayday, fix things, fix things, don't fuck this up, please don't fuck this up.' But no matter what I do, we still end up fighting, even more than before and to a greater scale. We almost didn't even show up for one of the meetings. I have to keep reminding myself daily that it'll be worth it to just deal with it and get through this rough, but sometimes even that doesn't work and I find myself questioning if even the prospect of future happiness with August is worth the fighting and hurt we're going through now; if the August I know now is how he really is or it's just the circumstance we're in.

I'm not even sure I want to know anymore. Sure, he's great to be around most of the time, but maybe... maybe I'm just selfish and want things to be easy and perfect and fluid. So I stay, sure that it's just me and that to truly be in love with someone is to stay with them through the best and worst times. That I have to put my selfishness aside and think of what he must be going through as well, and to be a bit more sympathetic. And it's kinda difficult, just as I predicted, but I still try to make things easier for the both of us, like provoke him less and react less to his insults and comments.

And yeah, it's difficult to keep my temper in check and swallow my pride, but damn, August is worth everything. I'd go to hell and back just to see him smile at me. And I'd like to think he'd do the same for me. So I stay with him and make attempts to calm myself. I can't really say that I calm August that much, but still, I love him, and I know that in the end, we'll be happy together and it'll all be okay because we'll be together and no one can try to pull us apart.


	6. Six

Contrary to my previous thoughts, I am now thoroughly fed up with August and his temperamental behavior. And it's only been about three weeks since my revelation. Even if I don't wanna be alone anymore, I just... there's only so much a guy can take, y'know? And I'm at my peak already. I just need a break from August and his fucking attitude. I mean, I don't love him any less or anything, but damn, he has gotten on my nerves for the last time.

So I call him, mind clear and focused on my motive. "What do you want?" he asks, sounding snarky as usual.

"I need a break," I deadpan, catching him off guard.

"What? A break? What the fuck does that mean, Ezra?" he asks, voice gaining volume and anger quickly, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"I guess, yeah. I mean, just for now, y'know? I'm sorry, August. I mean, I love you, you know I love you more than anything, but Jesus Christ, this is stressing the fuck out of me and I just can't take it anymore," I explain, attempting to make him understand and not get too pissed at me.

"Are you fucking trying to blame this on me, Ezra? Because you haven't been perfect for these past few months either," he snarls in response. Yep, he's pissed.

"No, I am blaming it on you, August. It's not you at all. It's just that with everything going on, it'll be better for us to focus on other things until summer and cause less stress for the both of us," somehow makes its way out of my mouth, but I have no idea what I'm saying by this point. Honestly, I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't get even more pissed and call off our summer plan.

"What fucking ever, Ezra. You won't have to worry about me or summer anymore because it's all over, you piece of shit." Too late. I cover the mouthpiece of my phone and sigh loudly.

"Yeah, okay, I understand. But either way, I still love you, August, and I don't think that those feelings will go away anytime soon," I sigh. What am I even fucking saying?

"Tell someone who cares, Ezra. Do us both a favor and delete my number," is all August says before the dial tone sounds and I end the call, sighing again. Well, that went worse than expected. Then again, what could I expect from someone who's just as much a dick as me? In all honestly, I probably would've found a way to end it on an even worse note, so kudos to him, I suppose. And why am I not worried about him calling off all of the plans? Because I know that when he finally calms down and realizes what he said, he'll come calling back and apologizing. And if he doesn't, well, I'm sure that by the time summer rolls around, we'll have worked something out.

I mean, he can't just leave me hanging like that, right? Right? Haha, yeah. I mean, he knows how important leaving is for me, and no matter how mad he is, there's still a part of him that loves me and wouldn't do that to me. At least I hope he wouldn't do that to me.

And even if not, I still got pretty good grades, so I can probably find a good college in a city to go to away from here and probably get a better job to pay for a cheap apartment or something. I really don't want to have to, but if I need to, I will.

Being with August isn't a necessity, but it sure as hell is an indulgence and a luxury; one that I've gotten far too accustomed to. Perhaps this is why people distance themselves from others to avoid attachment. Yeah, probably.

But even if things with August end up definitely ended, I don't regret a single goddamn second of it. I don't regret falling in love and I also don't regret who I fell in love with. The only thing I regret is not finding a way to make August's dad see how we are together and realize that it's ridiculous to keep us apart and make us miserable without each other.

However, people are stupid. People are afraid of change. People are not good to each other. And unfortunately, there's nothing I can do to change that. I can only deal with the consequences.

And right now, I'm dealing with the consequences... of what? Of being happy? Of falling in love? What gives that bastard the right to punish me for doing something that is only wrong in the minds of bigoted assholes? What the fuck is wrong with people?

Shit, this asshole is the reason that I can't be happy with the guy that I love? Why the fuck do people stomp on other's happiness just because their own beliefs clash with it? Why the fuck is everyone so greedy?

Okay, Ezra, calm yourself. Calm down and think clearly. Remember, the goal is to relax. Finally just relax. Concentrate on something else; go to your happy place.

Yeah, happy place. Happy... Sitting in the forest, next to the river, August leaning on my shoulder to my right, Hung laughing to my left, a cigarette in my hand, and no cares in the atmosphere. Yeah... happy...

Alright, alright, now to go on and... do what, exactly? Damn, I need a job or a hobby; something to fill my time and keep me from being the angsty little brat I am.

So instead of lazing around at home, I start taking walks every day, and when I can, I hang out with Jacqueline. Yeah, it's kinda awkward the first few times chilling with her, but overall, she's a pretty good friend and nice to be around. Oh, and I end up getting a job at the local grocery store. It's not really perfect, but it's damn better than working at a McDonald's.

And then there's the matter of what I'm gonna do at college. I mean, it'd be pretty cool to maybe pursue writing or philosophy or something, but I don't even know. But I have time to decide, right? Damn, now that I've graduated, it's just a matter of what the fuck do I do now? What is life even about from this point? I almost miss being at high school, what with the sense of stability and familiarity. But I can do this; I can start the rest of my life.

But when? Am I really basing my life plans off of another person's fickle plans?

So I get angry. Not angry enough to really do anything about, but enough to put myself in a bad mood. And, of course, that bad mood worsens when one day at work, I notice a familiar head of red hair bobbing by as its owner is walking hand in hand with a blonde girl, looking obviously smitten with each other. What the fuck? And of course, as they walk by, I can hear every word they say.

"Come on, let's go pick up some stuff for our anniversary tomorrow," she giggles, voice unbearably high. Oh god why? August chuckles in response, sending chills down my spine slightly. I scoff to myself. Bastard.

"I can't believe it's been two months already," August replies, catching me completely off guard. Two months? But we've only been broken up for three weeks. That piece of shit cheating ass mother fucker.

And of course, because life loves to fuck me roughly with a cactus, the two come up to my check out line a few minutes later, putting the items down next to me. Of course August hasn't noticed me yet, being the ignoramus he is. And of fucking course they just had to buy a pack of condoms. Christ.

Deciding to have a little, I stare blankly at the girl, who's currently being assaulted at the neck by my ex-boyfriend. "Hmm, if I were you, I'd take these back and get the extra-small."

I can barely smother my smile as August's head shoots up and his eyes widen for barely enough time to notice until they narrow in contempt.

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" the girl asks, voice rising in pitch. I almost have to hold my ears at the screeching noise.

"Oh, nothing. I just remember him being so embarrassed about having a small dick that he'd always make me fuck him instead," I reply, finally letting a slow smirk take over my face. "Isn't that right, Mitchell?"

Of course, the statement was a lie, but that doesn't mean I can't start a little shit anyway.

"What the fuck is he even talking about, August?" his girlfriend asks, alternating between glaring at me and staring questioningly at August. The smirk widens as August starts to look almost nervous. Yeah, you'd better fucking suffer, you fucking sorry excuse for a person.

Before August can start spouting a bullshit response, I turn to him again, a glint in my eyes.

"So, tell me, August, how are you out with your little whatever? The last I heard, you were banned from going outside," I ask, eyebrow raised, before putting my hand in front of my mouth and gasping. "Oh, that's right! You're only banned from seeing me because your dad is a homophobic piece of shit. Oh well, I guess being an insufferable bastard runs in the family. Like father, like son," I smirk, voice velvety. If anything, that will definitely get a reaction.

"August, do you know this guy?" the girl asks dumbly. I roll my eyes before taking out my phone and flipping through my pictures smoothly, finally settling on one and showing it to the blonde girl.

"Does this answer your question?" I ask, referring to the picture of August and I kissing in front of the camera. The girl rolls her eyes, but looks a little uneasy.

"Whatever, that's not even him, probably just some other guy with the same hair color," she replies, looking at August questioningly again, searching his face for a reaction.

So I flip to the next picture of August and I only seconds later, grinning into the camera happily. With a huff, the blonde girl just glares at her boyfriend and walks right out of the store, leaving an uncomfortable and irritated August and an even more pissed me.

"What the fuck, Ezra? Jealous much?" he asks, trying to pin the blame on me. Barely able to contain my rage, I shift my fury to my glare until August starts to look uncomfortable.

"No. I am not going to fucking talk to you right now, you fucking asshole. One, I'd lose my job and two, I can't even begin to think of what I could say to actually drill my message into your head. But y'know, I don't need to. I'm not with you anymore, and never will be again. And what can I say? It was all your fault. It was all you, you piece of shit. So take your shit, get out of the goddamn store and hope that I will never see you again in my life because if I do, there will be no holding back. Now fucking leave before I waste more of my time and breath on you."

Obviously seeing no sense in arguing, August picks up his bag awkwardly and promptly exits. As soon as he walks out the door, I turn back to the next customer, smiling widely. "Next, please."

When my shift is finally over, I walk home, not entirely sure what to do, what to feel. And as I walk in my room and sit on my bed mechanically, I stare at my wall, not really looking at anything.

"No," I whisper, eyes watering already, "I will cry over him. He's not worth my tears. He's not worth it." But that does nothing.

I lean over, head smothered in hands as I heave forward slightly, breathing in a choked sob. "Goddammit." And even though the tears start falling rapidly, I don't make a single noise, even though my body begs of it. "Goddammit."

When I wake up, dried tears tracks make their way down my face and my eyes still look a bit swollen. And when I check the time on my phone, there's a text from August. Before I can read a single word, I throw my phone across my room, making it land with a hard thunk on my carpet.

In effort to distract myself, I stand up, fishing out my cigarettes and my iPod before exiting the house and starting out in a run. A while later, I stand, heaving noisily in attempts to let my lungs catch up to the rest of my body. Honestly, I don't even know where I am anymore, but I can't find a part of me that really cares at all.

I don't care. No one cares. Why does no one care? I think before stopping myself. Stop. Don't put it on you. It's not your fault, it's his. He just took me for granted. It's all his fault for not appreciating a great thing right in front of him.

So I plop down on a nearby bench, resting my head in my hands and sighing. I barely hear someone sit next to me. I look over slightly to see a girl about my age, looking like a stereotypical white girl, dumb and blonde and obsessed with blowjobs and Jesus, taking a fucking selfie next to me.

"Could you not take a fucking selfie right there?" I snap, bringing the girl's eyes to mine owlishly until she glares at me. Oh, wonderful.

"Could you not fucking step on other people's fun? Just because you're unhappy doesn't mean you have to be a dick to other people," the girl snaps, turning back to her iPhone and taking a sip from her Starbucks.

I sigh slightly, turning back to my iPod and wishing that I had my phone with me so I could at least get on the Internet and not be bored as shit. A tap on my shoulder brings me back to attention. The girl is still looking at me, but this time with almost... sympathy in her eyes.

"Do you wanna talk about it or something?"

I shrug at her. "I don't know..." She rolls her eyes at my response.

"Look, either you do or you don't. Either way I don't give a shit, so if you want to stop being a dick and talk about it, then I'm fine with that or if you wanna keep sighing to yourself, then what-fucking-ever, just don't bitch at me for being here."

Surprised at her bluntness, I just nod slightly.

"Yeah, okay. Uh, I was seeing this guy and then his dad hated it so he basically locked him inside the house and wouldn't let us see each other, and it got really bad so I ended up breaking up with him a couple weeks ago. Him being him, he made me out to be the bad guy and I almost felt guilty for it. But I was at work today and he walked in with his girlfriend and they were talking shit about their anniversary and being together for two months and I just... Goddammit," I force out, trying to keep my voice from breaking. The girl's face softens a bit at my story.

"Oh my god, what a dick. Who even does that?"

I let out a broken laugh, shaking my head roughly. "I don't know. Maybe I just wasn't mean to be happy with others. I mean, first my best friend drowns, and now this. Goddammit."

The girl puts a hand on my shoulder, shaking her head. "Don't say that..." she trails off, leaving me to tell her my name.

"Ezra," I tell her.

"Genevieve," she replies, "Don't say that, Ezra. I mean, even if you are somewhat a dick, no one deserves to be alone. Come with me, I'll make you feel better." And I guess it's just the crippling loneliness that makes me follow, but either way, I don't know what the hell I've gotten myself into.

To be honest, maybe I shouldn't have followed Genevieve. Even the pain of being alone isn't comparable to the pain of my feet after following her store to store and holding her bags. Even if she does give some sort of wisdom every once in a while.

"The way I see it, this guy is just pretending to be with this girl so that he can finally not be cooped up and on better terms with his dad. But either way, it was shitty thing to do," Ginny drawls, balancing her multiple bags on her arms. How the fuck does she even do that? I mean, I'm not exactly weak, and it's nearly unbearable. I should make this girl my queen. Maybe if I praise her enough, she'll let me sit down.

"See, this is why I don't like boys. Girls are so much easier to deal with. And so much better in bed," she drools, definitely shocking me. I mean, damn, out of the blue. Not that it's not possible or anything, but I definitely wasn't expecting it.

"Yeah, well, I tried girls once and I haven't been back since. I don't think I seem to have good luck either way. People just suck," I grumble, getting a confident nod from Genevieve. "

Yeah, totally. Like, my last girlfriend was with me for like six months until she randomly came to me saying she decided she was straight and was going out with this guy that liked her or whatever. I was like 'what the fuck, no.' But it's whatever, y'know? There'll always be more people and you just have to wait until you find one that isn't quite as shitty as the others. Or at least the right kind of shitty."

She takes a break from talking to take another sip of her drink before starting again. "That relationship turned out shitty anyway. Turns out the guy was totally insane and tried to kill her in her sleep or something. She came crawling back to me and I was like 'no, fuck you, apparently I wasn't enough for you back then, so don't you give me that shit.' It's just a bunch of bull. But that's not enough to make me just swear off girls in the future. That's pretty dumb. Just because I've been hurt in the past doesn't mean I'm not going to find happiness later on."

I nod at her as she checks her phone and takes another selfie. "Yeah, you're right. But that doesn't mean I can't wallow a little more, right?" She takes a break from her phone to shoot me a playful disapproving look.

"You're such a fucking drama queen, I swear," she giggles. I roll my eyes slightly at the girl until she adds one more bag to my arm, which is already screaming in pain.

"You're a cruel, cruel woman, Genevieve," I tease, but she's too immersed in frowning at her phone that she barely notices me.

"Damn, Dad wants me home. Hey, give me your number." With a nod, I give her the bags and take her phone, entering my number in the phone and watching as she gives one last wave and throws away her empty Starbucks before sashaying away.

And so Genevieve becomes another component of my fucked up life, offering her small bouts of humor and wisdom here and there, filling the empty void that Hung previously filled. Oh, and I introduced her to Jacqueline just to see what she'd do. Obviously I made the right choice when she started hardcore hitting on Jackie and making the usually cool and collected girl blush violently and mutter things unintelligibly before making a lame excuse and a ridiculous distraction.

Seeing the two all cute together makes me yearn for something again, but I figure that if I can't have that kind of happiness myself, then I might as well try to make others have that happiness and watch them enjoy themselves.

Plus, Genevieve and Jacqueline deserve to be together and be all weird and mismatched and happy. They suit each other, really, and if anyone should have that, it's Ginny.

So the two of us were at the mall again one day—in a store that I like for once—and who do I see walking by? Oh, none other than August walking with his fake girlfriend. Hm, I wonder how he was able to convince her to keep going out with him. What a fucking champ. I nudge Genevieve, nodding in his direction and leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"That's him," is all I say and her eyes immediately widen, but something seems a little off in her expression.

"Gee, what is it?" I ask, eyebrows furrowing.

"That's my ex, too," she whispers. She dated August, too?

"August?" I inquire a little uneasily. Ginny hits my arm and scowls at me.

"Not him, you idiot. Her." I wince a bit at the image of this girl and Ginny. Unacceptable. Awkward as hell.

"Ouch. How did you put up with her?" But Ginny doesn't answer me, just takes my hand and latches herself onto me, whispering about taking her lead and leading us near August and what's her face so that it's inevitable that we'll bump into each other.

And obviously, that's what happens as Genevieve 'accidentally' knocks him down with a little too much force, sending my ex to the cold, unforgiving floor. If only I could kick him while he's down. Literally, of course.

"Oops, sorry," Ginny giggles with no hint of guilt in her voice. August just scowls to himself until he sees me with my arm comfortably around Ginny's waist and smirking into her soft hair.

"Oh, hey, August. What's up? Not you, obviously." And for a second, he almost looks at me like he's expecting me to offer my hand to help him up. Haha, as if I'd spare a minuscule ounce of my strength on that dick.

Hell, I'd waste more strength on his dick than on him while he's being a dick. Dick. Dick dick dick dicks dicks dicks dicks. Anyway, I just raised an eyebrow until he hesitantly pushed himself up and stood next to Whatever again.

"Oh, hey, Carson. Didn't even notice you there," Ginny says sweetly, giving an innocent smile to hide her naturally evil nature. I can almost see what's her face—Carson—become to look uncomfortable.

"Uh, hey Ginny," the girl stammers, making me raise an eyebrow at her.

Unable to collect myself, I break out in laughter.

"Oh, this is perfect. So fucking perfect," I wheeze, catching not just the attention of a smirking Ginny, an uncomfortable Carson, and a confused August, but the nearby shoppers as well.

"What are you going on about, Ezra?" August asks, rolling his eyes.

"Oh nothing," I smirk, putting a hand over my chest, "It's just the irony of it all; see, we used to date—obviously—and your girlfriend and my girlfriend," cue wink at Ginny, "used to date. What a small world, huh?"

Linking our arms together, Ginny and I take one last look at the awkward looking couple before sauntering away, laughing the whole time. What a queen.


	7. Seven

It was a brisk spring day and the sun had just woken me up from a night of partying with Ginny and her multitude of friends, bringing to light the pounding headache and dry throat. Ugh, I groan. This is why I stick to weed. It's bad enough that my boss fired me just because he doesn't like me and I got in a fight with Mom over something stupid, but now I have a fucking headache. Son of a bitch. Hmm, time to go wake the monster that takes form in my best friend.

Trying not to trip over the past classmates passed out on my friend's floor, I carefully make my way around G-babe's house. Of course, I make a stop in her bathroom first to wash my face off and pop a few Aleve that she always keeps stocked in her cabinet, that angel. Upon opening her door, I witness a scene I never want to witness again—my best friend, naked, curled up to my other friend, who is also naked. My automatic reaction is to cover my face with my hands and try to rub the image out of my head with my fingers, but unfortunately, my attempts are in vain. So I proceed to stumble across the room and open the drapes, letting the afternoon sun flood the room. Fortunately, the brightness causes Ginny to stir, mumbling slightly and looking around with her black eyes wide and still half asleep.

When Ginny decides to plop back down on the pillow and close her eyes again, I scoff slightly, clapping my hands and bringing her to attention once again.

"Come on, bitch. Time to get up."

My best friend scowls at me, clutching even tighter to Jacqueline. "Whatever, I'm going back to sleep," she mumbles, making Jackie's boobs her pillow. Ginny no, don't make me look at them.

"Like hell you are. Now either get up or I will pick you up and throw you outside naked." Her coal black eyes narrow in response.

"You wouldn't dare," she snarls.

"Oh, but I would," I smirk, crossing my arms and cocking my hip slightly in defiance, "Wanna try me?" When she scowls at me, I know I've won.

"Fine, fine. Now leave so I can get dressed. I mean, unless you wanna see me naked more than you have. I thought you were gay, but you can prove me wrong," she smirks back, stretching out.

"Oh shut up. I'll go, but if you're not out in ten minutes, then I'm following up on my threat." And with that, I leave, slamming the door behind, reveling in the multiple groans that follow the noise. Hmm, seems like a few idiots have woken up already. Now to wake up the rest.

Once Ginny and Jackie are fully awake and we've kicked everyone else out, we clean up a bit and leave a few minutes into it, claiming to be taking a break from cleaning to get breakfast. But all of us know that we're going to end up putting it off and leaving before Ginny can make us clean up the rest.

We end up going to IHOP and feasting on some pancakes and the like, making jokes and talking shit the whole time. It's fantastic as usual until I get a text. A fucking text. And it's not that difficult to guess who it's from. Fucking August.

[From: Lying Bastard]: Hey, can we talk?

If looks could kill, my phone would be six feet under. Clicking my phone off, I start to breathe heavily, anger building. Who the fuck does he think he is texting me after all these months, knowing what he did, probably asking for another chance. What a fucking asshole!

Evading questions cleverly, I convince the other two girls to finally leave and drop me off at my house so that I can wallow in private. After battling with myself for a good half hour, I decide to text back, asking what he wants. And then we have this whole conversation about him being crazy sorry and breaking up with his fake girlfriend, who was also dating him just for the image, and that he'd like to be just friends again since he doubted I'd want to be in a relationship with him again.

And because I'm so weak when it comes to him still, I reluctantly agree to the offer of friendship. So we talk for a few weeks until we finally agree to meet each other again at the river, although not on the second Saturday of the month. We both agreed it'd be detrimental to the feeble progress we've been achieving.

We meet again, him bringing a bag of chips and me bringing a blanket, and to be honest, it's nice being with him again. Sure, I'm not looking for anything with him—definitely not—but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy his companionship. It almost feels like old times just without the kissing and fucking and loving—well, overt loving, anyway. I think it's just best not to open up that can of worms again when our new friendship is so fragile.

A month later, it's the middle of spring and August and I have both made attempts of moving on from each other; August with serial dating and me with finally trying to find someone else to become invested in. August has no luck, only finding the scum of the earth, and I, surprisingly, find a magnificent specimen of a guy. I met this guy, Andre, while waiting at a concert a few weeks ago and ended up hitting it off. Well, I assume we did since he asked for my number and asked me out. He seems like a great guy, really, and even if things don't work out romantically, I can tell he'd be a hella cool friend.

I even invited him to hang out with the rest of us once; the rest of us being August, Jackie, and Ginny. We ended up just chilling at Ginny's house and smoking and talking shit until we passed out. Yeah, Andre's definitely a cool guy. Even if August acted a little jealous—which was completely hilarious—it was overall pretty awesome. Ginny and Jackie seemed to like him, but mostly they were too wrapped up in their own make out session. Awkward.

And then I almost had a heart attack when I went to the bathroom and saw Andre and August sitting together, laughing and looking pretty close. I shot a glare to August, internally muttering about how he had better not be talking any shit about me. To my relief, they were just talking about some TV show they both watched that I didn't care about in the least.

Once the night was finally exhausted, we all passed out on the couches, Ginny and Jacqueline curled together on a couch and August, Andre, and I cuddling together on the floor. Needless to say, waking up was really awkward. Especially when I was in the middle of the sandwich and I felt morning wood on either side of me. Totally awkward.

So that was about a week ago and tonight, Ginny's dragging us all to a party one of her high school friends is throwing. I don't exactly like high school parties, but you take what you can get, y'know?

Alright, we get to the party, and it's like any typical high school party, blah blah, you know the routine. So August, Andre, and I decide to get totally schwasted and of course, it happens and it's great until once again, we wake up and it's totally awkward. But this time it's different. And why is it different? Because we all woke up naked as the day we were born and well, let's just say there were questionable liquids in places questionable liquids should not be. And by that, I mean my butt and my torso. Fucking fantastic.

Basically the atmosphere was so full of awkward tension that we all had to take the walk of shame together and leave our separate ways even though August was the ride to both Andre and me. I guess I'm walking home with a sore ass—something I haven't had in months. Hmm, I almost miss the familiar sting of my lower back. Or maybe what it symbolizes. Either way, I miss getting fucked.

About a week later, things between us three become even more awkward. And why? Because fucking August suggested that we do a three-way again. And guess who agreed? Andre, of course. And then I did of course, but I don't think there was any part of me that would disagree to that proposition.

We agree to meet up at August's house one day while his dad is on business and there's plenty of room to... do the do. Andre picks me up from my house, nodding at me awkwardly, making his stretched ears bounce around in this weird way that makes me laugh. Thankfully, the awkward tension is broken then and there so the rest of the short car drive is generally relaxed. And then when we pull up to August's house, a new wave of nervousness racks my body, almost shooting my anxiety through the roof. Andre and I exchange nervous smiles before exiting the car and knocking on the front door. My knees are a little wobbly and my hands are sweaty, but I feel anticipation and excitement pulse through me as well. I can tell that Andre feels the same, so I nudge him on the shoulder lightly and shoot him a small smile before turning back to the door, which is currently being unlocked and opened by the one and only redheaded bastard.

Instead of verbally greeting us, the ever confident and composed idiot just opens the door wider in a silent invitation before leading us to where I know is his room. On the way up, he offers us something to drink or eat, to which Andre politely declines.

"Nah," I drawl, "I came here to be fucked, not to eat." Which is surprising, because I used to always eat August out of his food since I came over so often. Andre almost chokes on his spit and August just straight out laughs.

"Ezra, you fucking idiot. The only time you don't wanna eat, I swear," he mutters before taking his jacket and raising an eyebrow at us to either strip or just get comfortable. I can't exactly tell since I can't exactly read minds, bastards.

As I take off my jacket and plop myself down on his bed, I turn to our ever gracious host. "Actually, now that you mention it, I guess I am a little hungry."

We laugh a bit as we all head down again to get food and I pretend not to hear August grumbling under his breath. After the successful attaining of some chips, we make our way back up to the comfortable room. It's undeniably awkward for a few seconds until I clear my throat and look at the other two.

"So, how're we gonna do this thing? Just wing it or...?" I ask, earning a slightly uncomfortable look from Andre and a shrug from August. The atmosphere soon turns awkward and in attempts to salvage the situation, I just roll my eyes and mutter something about idiots before leaning over to kiss August again. It's kind of weird since it's been so long, but part of it feels so familiar. The ginger soon relaxes into the kiss as I do and in my peripheral vision, I notice Andre standing next to us and looking pretty uncomfortable, so of course, I take action yet again by breaking away from the plump lips in front of me and switch out for a pair of thinner, yet still soft lips. Hmm, not too bad.

And so it goes from there. Once we're finished, laying panting on the bed and looking at each other, I reach over to take my true lover in my arms: the bag of Doritos I brought up earlier.

August and Andre end up falling asleep soon after, both leaning up against each other comfortably with me next to Andre. With sleep evading into the deepest recess of my mind, I find myself standing up softly and taking a rumpled blanket from the floor to wrap around my slim frame. Now decently covered, I make my way through the window up to the roof that I haven't been laid foot on in months.

Internally, I berate myself for falling once again to the seductive force that causes me to be magnetically pulled to the ginger. How dare he? No, not him. It's my own fault.

Plus, what's the point complaining about it when I'm just going to end up letting him back in my life again like the weak person I am. Instead, I let more positive thoughts swim around in my mind for a while until I'm roused from my thoughts by a figure in my peripheral vision.

"Hey," he drawls, smiling slightly at me. I stare back at him, taking in the messy wine-colored hair and drowsy blue eyes that are tinted slightly violet.

"Hey," I eventually reply, going back to counting the stars.

"So..." he starts until I cut him off.

"So nothing, August. Don't talk." Don't ruin it. For once, he finally follows my orders, closing his mouth and the next thing I know, his arm is wrapped around my shoulder, the warm skin nice and soft against my still cool neck. With only a slight glare, I turn my head slightly and look back at the stars before leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder.

We only sit together for a few minutes before I sit back up and stand shakily, rewrapping the blanket tighter around my body and glancing down at August. He raises a brow at me and I hold out a hand to the sitting man.

"Let's go back in before Andre wakes up and finds us gone," I suggest, hand still outreached. With a small smile, August takes my hand and we carefully make our way back in to warm the bed for the third party.

Andre is just as I left him—peacefully asleep, wrapping in his own world. But I can't help but notice that as we rejoin him, with August a small amount of distance on one side and me spooning him on the other side, he appears even more relaxed and content. Perhaps even the corners of his lips raise a bit in his slumber. Content with the moment, I relax more into the raven spooned against me and happily allow the arms of sleep to wrap around me and carry me into a new world.

Mere hours later, with the sun lighting up the room and my face, my brain reacts and the rest of my body awakens. Of course, the other two aren't quite awake yet, so my first instinct is to lay down and go back to sleep, but incidentally, sleep never returns. After that, I force myself to sit up and lazily put on a pair of boxers so that I can get up to check my phone downstairs. Why it's downstairs, I have no idea.

And because it's a Saturday morning, there's August's dad in all his glory, sitting in the living room. I merely shoot him a peace sign and a wicked smirk as I retrieve my phone from the kitchen and return upstairs. I only have one message, so I open it quickly, reading the words sent from my mother. Since she's asking if I can look after Maggie while her and Dad have a date day, I send her an affirmative response and clad myself in yesterday's clothes. On the way to my last piece of clothing—my favorite jacket—I stop beside the bed where the two boys still lie sleeping peacefully to give both a quick kiss on the forehead before I pick up my jacket and finally leave the house.

When I arrive at the house, Mom and Dad are waiting somewhat patiently, playing with my baby sister until I walk through the door. "Hey, Mags! Ready to go on that murder spree we've been planning on?! Oh, sorry guys, I didn't know you were still here. I meant, uh, sit around and do cool baby stuff," I smirk as I saunter through the door.

My lovely parents just roll their eyes at me and turn back to Margaret, whispering that ridiculous baby talk to her for a few minutes before giving me a stern talking to about properly taking care of her, which I do all the time. Once I've finally assured them of my capability of taking care of a one year old, they bid me farewell and leave for a romantic adventure or whatever the hell they're going to do.

Basically the whole day goes well. I chill with my sister and we work a little on her developing speech, and no, I was not teaching her cuss words; I have some boundaries, especially when it comes to my little Margaret. So it was time for her to be put down for a nap and she was clutching onto my shirt with her little chubby baby hands, pouting up at me and widening her forest green eyes.

"Eh-ruh! Nooooooo," she whines, crocodile tears filling her eyes. Ah, I've taught her well. "Come on, Mags. Will you go to sleep easier if I tell you a story?" I ask, to which she nods, pout lessening minutely.

"Okay, hold up. Uh, okay, so once upon a time, there were seven horrible monsters that lived in a land where monsters were feared. Of course, this only made them madder, so one day, they went around, doing their usual monster stuff when they came across this one human who was just sitting around, chilling, and these monsters got angry." Maggie's eyes widen in horror and I tighten my arms around her. "But before they could do anything, one of them turned to the others and said 'hey, guys, it's not his fault. Let's just go do something else.' And the others agreed. So this magical fairy queen came down and said 'Good job on giving other creatures a good name, so in return, I'll give you all a present.' So the monsters began to yell out wishes, but the queen didn't listen and instead, waved her wand," I demonstrate, waving my hand as well, "And just like that, the weird creatures all merged together and formed a rainbow. Have you ever seen a rainbow, Mags?" When she nods slightly, I smile and continue, "Okay, so they turned into a rainbow and stayed up in the sky and they looked down on aaaaall the humans and whenever they saw that the humans were being mean or sad or angry, the rainbow would come out of the sky and give the humans a little bit of happiness to make the bad feelings go away."

The little blond girl giggles at the end, yawning through her laughs and reluctantly closing her eyes in favor of a nap. Once she's deeply sleeping, I give her a small kiss on the forehead, trying not to think of the other two I've given the same gesture to this very morning.

While Maggie sleeps, loud claps of thunder wrack through the sky. Thankfully, the girl doesn't wake until a few minutes after the storm calms and we're left with damp ground and of course-

"Raaay-buh, Eh-ruh!" Margaret squeals, clapping her hands in delight once her drowsiness wears off.

"That's right, Maggie. It is a rainbow. I guess that someone's being sad around here and the monsters need to cheer someone up. It's not you, is it, Mags? You don't need to be cheered up right?" I ask, making myself seem incredulous, eyes widening. Her own eyes mirror mine as she covers her mouth and shakes her head.

"Nuh!"

I grin at her. "Good. Because if you did, I know someone who would definitely visit you and cheer you up instead." At my words, Maggie responds, leaning forward slightly.

"Who, Eh-ruh?"

My hands immediately raise and I grin maliciously at the child. "The... tickle monster!" And she screams in response, giggling almost before my hands even reach her sides. Eventually, she ends up pushing my hands away with the small bit of strength she has and giggles a few last times, staring up at me with chubby cheeks full of color and breaths coming harder than normal, but eyes full of childish curiosity and untainted joy.

"Luv yew, Eh-ruh," Margaret whispers, nuzzling her head into my neck, the downy blond locks tickling the neck I struggled to keep unmarked last night.

"Love you, too, babygirl," I whisper back, rubbing her back softly.

When she lifts her head back up a few seconds later, her eyes are filled with joy and excitement. "Eh-ruh! Par! Par!" she demands. I chuckle at the small girl and nod.

"Yeah, okay, we'll go to the park in a few, but not for very long, okay? It'll be dark soon and then Mom and Dad will be home." Well, if they don't stay the night at a hotel or something. Gross.

On the way to the park, Ginny texts me, asking to hang out, but I decline with the excuse of hanging out with Margaret. Of course, she's not satisfied and instead opts to meet us there for a few hours with the promise of being on her best behavior. So I accept and switch Maggie to my other hip, putting my phone back in my pocket. Soon we approach the entrance of the mostly empty park, filled only by a few kids and a few teenagers who think hanging around places and cussing is cool. Great.

Margaret and I play for a while until I see Ginny coming—well, actually I hear her sipping her drink before I see her, but still.

So the three of us hang out for a while, me swinging Margaret in the baby swing and Ginny attempting to swing in a child swing next to us. Once she finally gives up, she decides to plant her ass in a regular swing and engage me in a conversation.

Halfway through said conversation, the teenagers come up and start to harass her (of course).

"Hey, baby, how 'bout you ditch this guy and come hang out with us?" one of them offers, trying—and failing—to smirk.

For a minute Ginny ignores them, but then gasps in surprise and turns to them, eyes wide and a hand over her heart. "Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? I couldn't understand; I don't speak idiot. So do me a favor and fuck off," she smiles sweetly.

"Whatever, a slut like you should be glad to be able to hang out with real men like us," the same guy huffs, puffing his chest out slightly. It deflates as Ginny smiles wider and delivers a nice punch to the crotch that had been flaunted in her face.

"Oof! What the fuck? You little bitch!" he sneers, kneeling and grasping his dick, now face to face with Ginny's knee. Hmm, bad choice.

"I've heard worse from better," Genevieve sighs, swinging up and delivering a rough kick to the guy's face, smirking as she hears a nice crack. "Oh no!" she gasps, "You've broken my heel with your ugly face! I think it'd be best to leave before I get even more angry, don't you think?"

Just the look on her face and rage in her eyes would be enough for me to shit my pants if I was on the receiving end of it. Thankfully, I'm still standing there, subconsciously swinging the oblivious child and staring at the scene. The guys run off, looking akin to dogs with tails under their asses.

"Now that that's over, let's get back to swinging," Genevieve suggests, taking a few calming breaths and resuming swinging. As I go back to pushing Maggie, I just stare blankly at her, in awe of how quickly she moved on from the situation. If only I could move on so quickly.


	8. Eight

It's a few weeks later when I enter a relationship once again. However, it's not who seems to be the first choice. Why would I return to that arrogant bastard? Yeah, I still love him, but until I'm convinced he'd treat me better, there's no way in hell I'd go back to that.

No, it was not August that I agreed to, but the third member in our trio, Andre. Admittedly the last few 'meetings' with August have been a little more awkward, but things are overall the same. Yes, we both discussed it and decided that we're both willing to keep meeting up and inviting August to be with us. And if one of us starts to feel uncomfortable about it, we'll all back out and that's that.

Admittedly, it's a little difficult to stop comparing my relationship with August with my still new one with Andre, but I'm trying to get past that. And either way, Andre's really a great guy. Really sweet, kind, more soft-spoken and thoughtful, and then of course there's the physical aspects. I mean, damn.

But he's really such a kind person, almost shy to some extent. That doesn't mean that he'll let anyone push him over however. Even when we're with August, he makes sure that everything is mostly equal and that no one hogs anyone else. For the most part, things work out pretty well. I can sense a bit of hostility coming from August, but to be honest, I expected it. Most of the time I do my best to subtly soothe his anger in hopes to lessen the tensions and make things less difficult for all of us so that our arrangement can continue. It might just me being selfish, but by this point, I don't really find myself caring.

It isn't until about a month after Andre and I get together that August snaps. Thankfully it isn't during sex, but it's bad nonetheless.

We were all hanging out one night, just the three of us and Jackie and Genevieve. The two girls went out to get some snacks for us before we started a movie night, and us being the horny young adults we were, we decided to have a little quick thing before the girls came back. Well, it would most likely be a while until they came back anyway because odds were that they'd end up getting sidetracked and having sex in the car or the grocery store bathroom or something. Ew.

I'd been feeling more affection towards Andre in the past few days, so I subconsciously started to pay him more attention, so to speak. And to say the least, August didn't take it very well. He ended up just pulling away right before I could unbutton his pants and crossed his arms with a glare. I could tell that after this, things between us would go one way or another. If I had to guess, I would probably say that it would go the negative way, but that's just me being a pessimist.

"Look, Ezra... I don't think I can do... this anymore. It's just too hard y'know? It's not the same. I mean, I guess if you really want to, we can one last time before they come back, but after that... I just can't. Sorry if you don't like it, but-"

I cut him off with a shake of the head, Andre looking sympathetic next to me. "No, I understand. Uh, I don't really think that I'm... in the mood anymore, but... sorry if it ever made you feel uncomfortable or something."

"No, it wasn't really that, it was just kinda... hard sometimes. And it's just too much. Uh, actually I think it'd be best if I go now," he explained, motioning toward the door with his head.

"Please don't go on account of us, August. Stay, really," I pleaded. But he just shook his head and started walking.

"No, Ezra, it's fine really. I just... need some time. But I'll text you and Andre sometime. Ezra, don't give me that look, it's fine, I swear. We'll hang out again soon, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you later then." With a nod at me, August then turned to Andre and I noticed his expression visibly soften. Poor Andre being left out of everything. "And sorry to you, too, Andre. About everything we've dragged you into."

Andre, being the angel he is, just smiled softly at both August and I.

"It was my choice, guys. If I didn't want to be here, or do those things, I wouldn't. It sucks that it won't be the three of us anymore, but still hanging out will be good enough, I think," he shrugged.

"Bye, then," August replied, shooting one last apologetic smile, which was grievously returned as he walked out the door.

That was about a week ago and since then, things have been a bit more awkward whenever we've hung out. Andre has been the sweetest thing, even suggesting trying out a joint relationship in which all three of us form one relationship, but I explain that I'm just not ready for a real relationship with August yet, and until he proves that he can be legitimately trusted relationship-wise, the interaction can only be platonic or sexual.

So he works with me, asking about the experience with August and what happened between us. It takes a while to get it all out in entirety, but I manage to bring up all the memories and retell them, trying not to make him out to be the bad guy more than is deserved.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you to do anything, but just make sure that you know what you want. I'm not expecting you to completely forget August for me, but it'd be pretty nice to not have to talk about him all the time. I don't mean that you're not allowed to bring him up around me or anything, we're all friends and stuff, but I want this to be just you and me, and if August comes into the mix, then great, but for the time being, I'd like it to be just us. Is that okay with you?"

I nod my head at him. "That's fair. Sorry if I talk about him so much," I mutter, feeling ashamed in myself. Andre puts his hand over mine, leaning forward.

"It's totally fine if you feel like you need to talk about him, I mean, we are still friends as well as boyfriends, and I completely understand what you're going through, and it'd be great to tell me whenever you're going to make a big move, but just-"

"No, no, I get it. It's cool. Damn, what'd I do to deserve such a fucking perfect boyfriend?" I ask, eyes twinkling slightly.

"You're so corny, Ezra. And I'm nowhere near perfect. I'm just understanding."

"I guess that's all it takes then. Just understanding," I shrug, squeezing his hand.

From then on, it was mostly just Andre and I together. At least, for the first few months. August and Andre and I don't really interact much for a few months, mostly keeping to ourselves. Until one day when August comes to me, obviously upset.

His blue eyes are watery, almost showing the true ocean in them except for the red in the whites. The usually pale cheeks are now inflamed with red and his sniffling has yet to cease.

"August? What's wrong?" I investigate softly, reaching forward slightly, then retracting my hand. When he shakes his head, I open the door wider and lead him inside and up to my room. Immediately after I close my door, he clings onto me, burying his head in my shoulder, and lets out a agonizing sob. So I walk us to my bed and lay down, allowing August to lay on top of me and continue his weeping.

It's not until about twenty minutes later that his sobs dissolve into intermittent sniffles and hiccups. Finally, he speaks.

"S-Sorry about that," he rasps, voice rough and gravelly from the painful sobs. He clears his voice a couple of times and I continue rubbing his back for him.

"It's fine. So what was that about? It's been a while since you've come to me like this," I note. There are a few more sniffles as my reluctant friend attempts to gather some sense of composure.

"You're gonna think I'm stupid but—" he starts until I tsk and cut him off.

"Don't make excuses, just tell me, August. I'm not going to suddenly hold you in less regard than before just because you show some sort of weakness. You should know this by now," I chastise softly, trying to make my face seem as sympathetic as possible.

He nods at my words and opens his mouth, just inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds before he bows his head and utters his explanation.

"It was my dad again. He's been... getting worse recently. But this time, he went... further than usual." A great feeling of anger fills me at his words. What the hell did he do this time?

"What happened?" I ask, trying to smother the fury inside of me that pains my being. I mean, to bring down such a prideful, strong person so easily and with so much joy. How dare he?

"H-He... Shit," he starts, tearing filling his eyes yet again. I just hush him gently and bring him into my arms once again, rubbing his back. Poor thing.

"It's okay. You can tell me when you want to. Don't force yourself," I whisper into his hair as another sob rips through his body. He shakes his head, wiping his eyes of stray tears, even though they just keep coming.

"N-No, I need to get it out. He... he... he punched me again and then he just had th-this horrible look on his f-face and then he-" Another sob halts his sentence, but he carries on after it finishes, "H-He told me that I was the r-reason that... that... that my m-mother died. And th-then he spit on me and then he-he just fucking walked away." And then he collapses in another fit of sobs and I realize how justified he is in his reaction—not that he isn't otherwise. His mother's death cause a whole issue of self-hatred with August, and he just recently began to get over it and realize that it wasn't his fault, and now this insolent scum of the earth comes in and tears my August apart.

"Oh God, August, no. You can't go back there. You can stay with me or you can go somewhere else, but you can't go back to him. It's not good for you," I tell him, but he shakes his head.

"I can't. I want to stay, god I want to stay, but he told me that if I don't come back after a few days at most, he'll come here and hurt you whether I'm here or not and I... I just..." I lean him back on my bed next to me and wrap an arm around his waist in comfort.

"No, it's okay, just stay here for a few days then go back, okay? God, I'm so sorry, August."

His blue eyes stare into mine and he just smiles sadly at me. "It is what it is, I guess. But I'll get out soon," he explains, determination clear in his expression. I nod in affirmation and rub his back.

"Yeah, definitely."

"Will you still come with me?" he asks, eyes innocent and longing. I search through my thoughts and shrug.

"I really want to but I have to discuss it with Andre. But I think that I will." At the mention of Andre, his expression hardens slightly.

"Oh," he forces out.

"Come on, August. Don't be like that. You know that I'd do anything for you. Is it that hard to let me be happy for once now that we're over?"

"Well, maybe I don't want us to be over, so yes, it's a little difficult!" he exclaims, hands balling into fists.

"Neither did I, but sometimes things just happen like that! Look, I want to be together again, but I just don't know if I can trust you yet. Is it too much to ask to give me some time to sort things out?" I retort.

"Oh? More time than I've already given you? Look, Ezra, I love you, but this is getting really hard. It's been months and you're still with him and it seems like you haven't thought about anything. We were so great together, and I realize that I made a huge fucking mistake, but there's no way I'd make that mistake again. Why can't you just trust me?"

Before I can say anything else, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "I don't know, okay? I don't know. I want to be with you so badly, so badly, but it's human nature to be scared of getting hurt, right? I don't even know when I'll be ready again, but... maybe I'll be ready soon. I realize that it's been hard on you, but it's been difficult for me, too. I'm sorry for making you wait for so long, but you can't just expect me to forgive you at the drop of a hat."

August stares at me, eyes hard, but nods. "I understand. Know that I'd wait forever for you, Ezra, but please don't make me wait very long. Don't make it hurt any more than it does," he pleads earnestly.

"Okay," I agree, "I'll try not to make you wait for long, August. It's the most I can do, but I'll try for you."

I stand up, ignoring August's curious eyes, to turn off the lights and then make my way back to the bed, lowering myself next to my friend and as he curls up next to me, I wrap an arm around him once again, yielding myself to allow him some form of comfort, even if just for tonight. Once his breath evens out, I text my boyfriend to explain the situation and receive his input. It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but finally his text comes in.

"You know that you're allowed to do whatever you feel like, just make sure to tell me beforehand. If you want to leave me for him, okay. If you want to stay, okay. If you want to get with both of us, we'll work something out. Just make sure you know what you want."

With weary eyes, I reply to his message. "Okay. I think I might get with him again soon, though. Thanks for being a prince, Andre. And I'll be sure to tell you what happens for the next few days."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for telling me before you did anything. And tell him for me that he's a great guy and doesn't deserve the shit that his dad gives him."

After sending an agreement and a good night, I turn off my phone and curl back up to August, concentrating on his steady heartbeat and even breathing until I finally drift off as well, more content in his arms than I've been in a long time.

When I finally wake back up a few hours later, the sky remains dark and August remains deep in slumber. Rather than what I'd do previously, I close my eyes again and fall back asleep, something that hasn't happened in years.

The next time I awaken, August is shaking me softly and staring at me with those big, blue eyes. "Hmm whaa?" I ask groggily, shielding my eyes from the light. "Time to get up, dude. Your mom's calling for you."

My eyes snap open and I sit up, hearing my mother's voice across the house. I answer back, but she doesn't recognize a response, so I groan and stand up to stumble downstairs and meet the incensed woman.

"What?" I ask, exasperated. My mother smiles at my widely.

"Oh, just making sure you were up. Your dad's at work and me and Mags are gonna go to the park and have a mother-daughter bonding day. You're free to come along, too. I mean, I guess you're sorta like my daughter, so I could overlook it for you," she teases. I groan in response and decline.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Plus, August came over last night and he was really upset and he needs to stay for a few days. Is it okay?"

Her joking demeanor turns to one of concern as my words register in her head. "Of course it's okay. What happened?" My mouth tightens into a firm line as I recall August's words.

"I'll tell you later. I probably need to get back to him and make sure he's okay." She smiles at my response and leans forward to kiss my forehead.

"I'm proud of you, Ezra. You turned out to be such a sweet boy. Tell August that he's welcome to stay as long as he needs to. And that I hope that whatever happens works out later. I hate having him upset."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, me, too."

As she retreats to fetch my sister, I take the opportunity to go back up to my room and check on August.

"Hey," I greet him. His head shoots up from staring out the window and he offers a slight smile.

"Hey."

With a few steps, I sit down on the bed next to him and clasp his hand supportively. "How are you?"

His shoulder move up and down in a slight shrug. "I don't really know. It just... really sucks. I wanna be out of there so badly, but I can't or else he'll hurt you. It just fucking sucks."

"Hey, it'll be okay. Just a few more months, right?" I concede in attempts to soothe his nerves.

"What's the point? He'll just start going after you even after I'm gone!" August exclaims, suddenly standing up and turning around to face me.

"Who said I wasn't going with you?" I reply, standing up as well.

"Well, you never said you were!" he shouts back as he throws his hands in the air.

"Well, I am, you idiot!"

"Then that's great!"

"Hell yeah it is!"

"Let's make out!"

"Hell yeah! Wait, no!"

August pouts at me. "Aw, damn. Come on, Ezra. Just make out with me." I roll my eyes and shove away the enthusiastic man.

"I have a boyfriend, jackass, in case you forgot. Or you just want me to cheat on him. Either way, no," I firmly state to August's chagrin.

"Alright, fine." However, his pout deepens and in a feeble attempt to placate the childish adult, I lean over and place a soft kiss on his cheek. His pursed lips raise in a smirk as he catches my face in his hand and kisses me on the cheek back. I huff at him, but quirk my lips at him in a small grin nonetheless.

"You're such a dork, I swear," I sigh at him fondly, turning to my phone and sending Andre a quick text. Once the response comes, I grin wider at the screen and turn to August.

"What are you looking so happy about?" he asks, amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. Instead of responding verbally, I lean over once again, but instead clutch his chin with my hand firmly and move his face towards mine. Thankfully, his stupid mouth remains closed and none of his words slip out to ruin the moment—I've learned from experience to not trust August to make an event more meaningful and romantic; usually, he ends up fucking up and being a total moment ruiner. But honestly I couldn't ask for anything less.

Our lips meet for the first time in months, and damn it feels so right. I revel in his being for the good few seconds that we're attached, and then stare affectionately at the face that I've grown to love.

"So, what made you change your mind?" he asks softly after a minute or so. Like so many other times, I merely shrug at him and continue to stare.

"I don't know. I guess I just... really missed you. Wait, no, I shouldn't have told you that in fears of expanding your already fucking ridiculously huge ego."

He scowls at me, frowning playfully, and shoves me slightly. "You have no place to talk, Mr. I'm-So-Much-Better-Than-Everyone-Else Ezra."

We scowl at each other for a few minutes before I finally shove him down onto the bed and walk away, determination filling me to the core as a specific goal dominates my mind. Food. Need food.

August confusedly follows me, and his furrowed brows turn into upturned lips as he realizes my true intentions.

"Classic Ezra," he mutters in amusement. I shush him and go back to my mission of finding something to sate the Kraken in my stomach. The redheaded boy reclines against the counter, making sure that he looks completely attractive—which is his usual goal for anything ever—and puts on this stupid little smirk that comes out when he tries to be cool. Stifling a laugh, I roll my eyes at my companion and pick out some ingredients for a sandwich.

"So what about that boyfriend of yours? I thought you said you wouldn't make out with me because of him," he wonders.

"I texted him," I deadpan, halfway through making my sandwich.

"Oh, really. And what did he say?"

"Go for it."

Truth be told, shortly after that, August leapt over to me and attacked me with both his lips and hands—not that I didn't want it. Since my (sort of) ex-boyfriend gave us the okay to get back together, August wasted no time in carrying out what we've both been missing for the past year or so. Just us together. It feels great, just as I thought. We barely make it up to my room before it gets out of hand and we can't really hold back anything, much less pent up frustration and anger and love. Of course, for a few moments, I few guilty about leaving Andre like that, but he's damn understanding that it almost makes it difficult. Maybe he's just a perfect person. And I didn't stay with him why?

Because I don't want a perfect person. I want my shitty, egotistical, bratty, arrogant August, and settling for anything less is just horrible on all ends.

Needless to say, I'm entirely relieved that the rest of my family is out of the house, because honestly, they would've just had to deal with hearing our needy moans. At this point, there's basically no holding back.

As we catch our breath a good while later, I trace patterns onto his chest while panting heavily and throwing all of the covers off of the bed in attempts to cool off from the workout. Once the cool air hits my body, I moan in gratification and rest my head on the sweaty chest of August, right next to my still active hand. August leans down slightly to place a modest kiss on the crown of my head, even though my hair is still all gross and sweaty. What a saint.

"I love you, Ezra," he whispers, "I really missed you."

"Yeah," I mutter back, "I really missed you, too. It fucking sucked being without you. It really did. But damn, August, if you pull this cheating shit on me again—" I warn, before he strokes my cheek and shushes me.

"I won't, I promise. I was only doing it for my dad, I swear, but I'm totally done with that. Nothing in the world is worth risking your trust for me, and I guess I just had to learn that the hard way. It sounds so dumb and cliché but it's true. You're the only person—hell, the only thing in general—that actually means something to me. You're the only thing I can find in myself to care about. Why would I give that up again?"

His words swarm through my head, and within seconds, I reply with a slow nod. "Alright."

"Alright?" he confirms, his hopeful nature showing through the tone of his usually detached voice.

"Yeah. Yeah," I repeat, confirming to the both of us with another nod, aware of the implications of my final decision.

"So will you, Ezra Altair, do me the honor of being my boyfriend again?" August asks, a teasing undertone in his voice. I pinch his nipple a little harder than usual, earning a totally manly yelp from him, as I nod slightly.

"Yeah. I will."

It's safe to say that we spend the rest of the day in bed, catching up in more ways than one.


	9. Nine

Three days later, August reluctantly leaves for his own house. We spend the days prior to in bed together, trying not to think of the world he'll be returning to. But it'll be okay, because in the end we'll be okay. He'll be better this time. We'll be better this time.

Please let us be better this time.

So he kisses me goodbye and thanks my parents once more before shooting me a glance and walking in that prideful, confident way that only he can walk in this state of mind—scared, angry, and alone. It's almost as hard watching him leave as it was when he arrived—this heart-wrenching feeling comes more often than I'd like, especially with August. Every time I see a prideful bastard like him reduced to tears over something his abomination of a father said, it just... feels like someone's cutting a hole in my heart with a rusty, blunt spoon. It's almost unbearable, but the only thing I can do is hold him and whisper that it'll be okay when we both know damn well that it won't be okay for a long time and until then, he has to continue being in that poisonous environment and continue hurting.

And damn, that hurts. It just fucking sucks. I don't even know how else to put it, really.

But maybe this time around, things will get a little easier. I really fucking hope it's easier this time. I don't know what I'll do if this falls apart again. I don't think that I can handle it, honestly. But I guess that I'll just have to trust him.

For the next week, I barely see August, but I didn't really expect to. He informs me finally over text that as long as we're together, we have to revert back to the meet once a month situation, which completely sucks, but it's way better than what I previously expected. Fortunately, the first meeting is only a few days after he tells me.

Instead of immediately getting to business, we actually get down to business and discuss our plan for escaping. The deadline for running away in starting to get shorter, plus there's a very short and delicate time window to do it.

We end up planning to run away on July 12th, the second Saturday in three months. It's enough time to finish gathering the money that August never stopped slowly stealing and prepare for what comes after and how we're supposed to get there.

We'll continue to only meet on the second Saturdays, but communicate through texting to get all the stuff we need and really continue planning until we have a complete, fullproof plan. For now, all we can come up with is August keeps being the good little college boy that never angers his dad and keeps to himself, and I'm going to start gathering materials. Of course, I also plan to spend tons of time with Maggie just in case I won't see her for a while after. I even buy her a stuffed animal that I'll save until day I leave so that she'll have something to remember me by when I go. Just in case it takes a little while for us to be together again. But she'll probably be okay for a little while. A few weeks, a few months at the most.

Next, we have to figure out where we're even going to go and where we'll stay while we're there. And then of course, jobs and such, but that'll be easier once we find out where we're going to live. From then on, we'll just have to keep our heads above water until we can really get settled wherever we go. But until then, we just have to plan like crazy and hope that we go through with the plan without any complications. Any major ones, anyway. Hopefully we'll be okay. I just want us to be okay.

Between constant discussions with August and spending plenty of time with my family, things get pretty repetitive. Not much else happens in between, to be honest. It's not boring, per se, just... uniform, I guess. It'll definitely be worth it when I can finally be free and happy with August without constantly worrying about what's going to happen next or if his dad's going to do something stupid again and fuck things up.

Excitement swells up inside me as thoughts of the future fill my mind, sweeping away my invariable insecurities temporarily. At that moment, August decides to text me with a simple 'good morning' which lifts my mood even more so than before. The day progresses lazily and easily, bringing simple events and simple feelings, until August informs me to 'get my ass over here' because his dad left for the night to go visit a relative—which means, apparently, that he's going to meet the mistress that he was accidentally caught with, yet continues to sneak around with. Whatever, I'm just glad he's gone for the night so I can have another night with August.

After letting my parents know, I exit the house, cheerily walking along to August's house, whistling a song stuck in my head and swinging my arms to and fro slightly. I enjoy the calm, near summer atmosphere and even the sticky heat hanging in the air doesn't dampen my mood. Although I want to, I smother the urge to stop and stick my feet in the water for a few minutes; I'm already too eager to see August after being separated for a few weeks.

At last, I finally arrive at his house. Before I knock on the door, however, the wood opens by its own accord to reveal a smirking August, looking as arrogant and perfect as ever with his crossed arms and lecherous leer. Quickly, he leans close to me and grabs my collar, pulling me inside with a single firm tug, and kicks the door closed. He cuts off any future words with a rough kiss, and then... it's not a surprise what happens next.

The next morning is sweet and savory, but it's cut short as August receives a text from his dad that any unwelcome visitors in the house—cue me—had better be out within ten minutes when he gets home. With one last peck, I leave, some feelings of happiness still left over from the recent encounter. Hmm, sometimes being without him is alright because when we finally come back together again, it's fucking indescribable, honestly. Sure, the rest of it is usually pretty horrible, but sometimes it pays off pretty damn well.

Hmm, hopefully his dad will start going out of town more often. I manage to maintain a conversation with both August and Andre while walking home to keep from being bored and getting lost in my redundant thoughts once again.

The rest of the day is barely memorable, but I end up hanging out with Andre for a few hours at his house. We watch some movies and just chill out before I have to go back to my own house to sleep. My dreams that night are fitful for the first time in months, and I wake up a few times, gasping for relief from the nightmares while my clothes and sheets stick to my skin, attached by a sheen of sweat. I send a jumbled text to August, but he replies in short sentences, perhaps from me waking him from his sleep. Whatever, he can be bitchy another night. I don't have to deal with this mess. So I finally manage to coax myself back into a sleep, and fortunately it causes less distress.

In the morning, I wake up by a soft hand on my shoulder, slightly putting pressure; just enough to cause me to stir. I recognize the other hand running through my hair as my mother's and I yawn as I look up at her through drowsy, half glazed eyes.

"Yuh? Whuddizit?" I mumble, clearing my throat. And when I notice her green eyes, mirrors of mine, blinking rapidly and filling with tears suddenly, my mind clears and I become more alert.

"What happened?" I ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, God, Ezra, I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," she chokes, biting her lip and running her other hand down my arm, trying to keep in her choked tears.

"What?" I ask slowly, not sure if I want to know the answer.

"J-Just... see for you yourself." Before I can ask what she means, she turns on the TV in my room, flipping to the news and urging me to pay attention to the current story.

"Another tragic drowning," the news reporter announces, "This time, an 18 year-old named Andre Rodriguez, who crashed his car last night into a tree, and was ejected from the car and into the lake. It's been gathered that he suffered no pain and died on impact."

Oh God. Please no. I turn back to Mom, starting to hyperventilate and tears coming faster than I thought possible.

"Mom, no. Please," I plead, but she just shakes her head, and as she closes her eyes, a few tears escape, running down her face. "Please. Oh God. Oh God. No. No! NO! Fuck! Jesus Christ, not him! WHAT THE FUCK! MOM, PLEASE!"

The only thing she can do is choke out a sob and wrap me in her arms, cooing in my ear.

"Please not him," I whisper, accompanied by a slight whimper.

Mom and I are left weeping in each other's arms until finally, I fall on asleep with my head on her chest with her gazing down at me with melancholy eyes and a downcast smile. I can feel her heart filled with pain for me, but my own heart is too full to take on any of her pain.

When I wake up hours later, my inbox is filled with texts from August, who must've heard and trying to lessen my pain, but I turn off my phone before I can read any and go back to sleep in my now empty bed. Just how I feel inside with my best friend; empty.

My best fucking friend. Why does this keep happening? And now this ordeal is bringing up the memories of Hung I'd worked so hard at locking away in my subconscious to alleviate the pain in my head and my heart. Well, this just broke the dam of my memories. Fantastic. For a few days, I remain in bed, eating junk food—although that's not new—and not moving at all, not even turning on my phone once. Why do I need to? It's pointless to attempt to talk to anyone else, even August. I don't need pity; I just need a little bit of solitude to properly mourn. Or at least figure out how to properly mourn.

Who knows if this is healthy. Who even cares? I can wallow in self-pity for as long as I damn well please, thank you very much. Eventually I force myself to get up and shower away the stench of a pathetic man too weak to talk to anyone.

So I pick myself up and force myself to take a walk and eat a healthy meal. Somehow I finally convince myself to turn my phone back on and assure Genevieve and Jacqueline that I'm find. I hesitate for a moment before clicking on the conversation under August's name and sigh slightly as I type the words.

"Don't worry. I'm fine." Well, maybe not fine, but alive. Unlike...

"Fuck, Ezra," he responds, "I was so worried about you, bastard. No one heard anything from you for a week and I was so fucking scared that you'd do something bad. I was about to come over but Dad has me on intense lockdown. But I think I'll be able to sneak out tonight to see you." And before I send a text in response, he adds another message.

"Is that okay with you or do you still want to be alone?"

Biting my lip, I assure him that it'll be okay if he comes over. It takes hours for him to finally sneak out, but as the clock strikes two, there's a knock at my window. A small smile paints my lips as I tread across my room and assist August in his struggle to get through the window.

Finally we manage to both fall on my carpeted floor, breathless and exhausted. I let out a small chuckle as August gazes up at me, disoriented and confused. He joins in with my slight laughter for a few minutes until I reluctantly stand up and hold out my hands in assistance. My groans sound through the room as he just pulls me back down and claims that the floor is too comfy to leave. I huff as his childish behavior but continue lying next to him.

After a few minutes, he pulls me into his arms so that I'm lying on his chest comfortably. Not much is sad, but still the silence is far from awkward. It only takes about an hour or so until August finally falls victim to sleep, but my previous sleep schedule of nonstop slumber prevents me from joining him in dreaming.

When a few hours have passed, I hive him a slight shove on the shoulder and wait for the idiot to stir and let me out of the embrace.

"Huh? Whu? Wh-Where's the pizza?" he mumbles, tightening his grip on my body.

"It's time to get up, loser. You need to get home before your dad wakes up. Plus, I have to piss like a mother," I inform him, tone lacking the bite it held in earlier times. This doesn't go unnoticed by August, even in his sleep-addled mind, as he gives me a slight frown and releases me reluctantly so that I can finally relieve myself.

I return to the now awake man and cross my arms awkwardly. "Do you w-" he starts until I cut him off with a sharp

"No."

Seconds later, I repeat the word with a softer tone, "No. I... It's just difficult now, y'know? But thanks for coming over and stuff, even if nothing really happened." He smiles at me, touching my cheek softly.

"Hey, even if all we do is sit there awkwardly or sleep or ignore each other or anything, it doesn't matter. I'll be there for you regardless. I'd go to hell and back to make you smile, Ezra," he murmurs, place a slow, sweet kiss on my lips and gifting me with a genuine smile, a rarity for the arrogant man. "I'll text you, but we'll see each other in a few weeks at most. And then one more month and we can leave. It'll all be okay, Altair."

"Okay, Vega," I agree softly, following the retreating figure with my eyes until he disappears out of my line of vision.

"Eh-ruh," I hear from the doorway. Immediately recognizing the voice, I look over to acknowledge my sister, who looks so small in her white pajamas too big for her petite frame.

"What is it, Magpie?" I whisper, moving across the room swiftly to pick up her small, whimpering frame. A few more sniffles leave her body as she stares up at me, eyes wide and filled with fear.

"Wahduh, Eh-ruh. Blue den black an-an it wuz scawy," she chokes out, burying her head in my chest.

"Hey," I coo, rubbing her back soothingly, "It's okay, kid. I'm here to protect you. That's what big brothers are for; to chase away the bad dreams. And I'll always chase away the bad dreams for my little Magpie."

She nods slightly in my chest and looks up at me with tears eyes. "Sleepy," she admits, but looks at the door skeptically.

"How about you sleep in here for tonight, Mags?" I propose, realizing her fear and discomfort. Her little head nods up and down in accordance with my plan. Still holding her body in my arms, I walk over to the bed, laying the girl down delicately, then lowering myself next to her.

Once I'm properly comfortable, Maggie crawls over a bit and plops herself down against me and eagerly curls into me, eager for my warmth and protection that I provide. With a small, content smile, I allow her to get comfortable and finally fall asleep. As I'm lulled to sleep by her even breathing, for once, my thoughts aren't plagued by water and blood and Andre.

I wake up to giggling and slight urging to get up by a feminine voice. Accompanied by a groan, I look up to see my mother standing over the bed, holding her phone in her hand. She was probably taking pictures; fantastic. Once Maggie wakes up, Mom takes her to get ready for the day and to 'stop bothering your brother.'

I end up getting up anyway to make sure that I don't get down again today. Mom strongly urges—orders—me to come with them to the park and play. I don't really mind, so I come willingly.

"Play!" my sister screeches, pulling at my hand and breaking me out of my thoughts. I stand up, allowing her to tug me over to the playground unsteadily. After a minute, I instead pick her up and carry her over, first asking where she wants to go.

"Sween!" Swings it is. I place her in the small, baby swing and push her steadily, not paying attention to much around me, only keeping a small bit of attention on Margaret.

"High! Go high!" she squeals, looking back at me. I push her higher, keeping my attention on the small girl to make sure nothing bad happens. Mom is sitting over on the bench, alternating between doing something on her phone and looking at the two of us with this stupid smile on her face.

"Yeah, higher, Ezra," she mocks, cocking her head slightly and grinning at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. What a loser.

"Go back to your phone, loser, I think I have this under control," I call back, taking my attention off of Maggie for a minute.

"Oh, really? Then why has Maggie stopped swinging? Maybe because a certain someone forgot to keep pushing her," she snorts, looking pointedly at my now pouting sister. I shoot Margaret an apologetic smile and resume pushing the light body supported by the circular swing.

"Sorry, Magpie. Ready to fly?" I ask, receiving a cheer from Maggie.

"Fly, fly, Eh-ruh! Go high!"

And so I push and laugh with my enthusiastic sister, forgetting about my previous worries to have fun with Magpie and my loser of a mom—I mean that in the best way possible, really—without anything to think about.

Well, other than to keep paying attention to Mom and Mags without letting them know about my inner turmoil and struggle with mourning. But with their short attention spans, it's really not that difficult to keep them entertained and off my trail. All I have to do is keep Mom happy and to make Maggie fly.

We walk around the park slowly, absorbing the nice weather—which is rare, seeing as how it's usually hot as balls in the middle of summer—and enjoying the easy-going atmosphere. It's also nice being out with people for the first time in a while, even if the circumstances are a bit burdensome, but it's mostly okay.

Mom pretends not to notice the emptiness residing in my eyes—or rather, preventing anything else from residing in them—and I pretend not to notice how Mom avoids the small lake in the park at all costs. It's a nice thought, but it doesn't really help much, and I can tell that it's hurting Mom more than I want to believe and recognize.

Overall, things are a bit of a mess just wrapped in a blanket of deceit and pathetic avoidance.


	10. Ten

When we've been at the park for an hour, a mystery person shows up out of the blue and of complete coincidence. I'll give you a hint: it's a piece of shit with the name of a month. Ding ding ding, August, fantastic. Needless to say, I'm surprised to see him there, and he seems ecstatic to have caught me outside, especially with Mom and Maggie with me. I guess he's just glad I'm not alone; I think that I am, too. It makes things easier to ignore the problem and spend time with other people, although I know I'll have to face it later on, probably during sleepless nights. Fantastic.

Either way, it's nice to be around others. Especially August.

Mom and Maggie depart in a desperate search for a bathroom, so August and I sit on the swings, rocking back and forth slowly.

"So, what're you doing here?" I ask curiously, looking up at him through my lashes. He chuckles a bit and looks away slightly then back at me.

"Oh, you know, just wandering on your side of the woods. And your mom may or may not have told me so that I could come and meet up with you. Thank God Dad decided to go out to lunch with his 'business associate' today, which means he won't be back until dinner tonight," he explains with a slight shrug.

"Well, at least he's gone," I offer, noticing his distaste. I don't blame him, I'd be the same if I was in his position. Actually, I'd probably be even worse.

Once Mom and Margaret come back looking evidently more content, Maggie takes turn playing with us until Mom announces that it's time to leave and eat lunch. I don't go with them, however. I mean, since August is there, there's no way that I'd just let him go so easily.

August refuses to go to his house since he's grown to hate the house even more than before. We instead drive out to an abandoned field and lie on a blanket kept in his car 'just in case.' Or he was just lying and planned to have sex in this field. I wouldn't put it past him, really. I'd probably do the same thing.

However, nothing really happens, sex wise. It's basically the two of us lying side by side and enjoying the company we've been deprived of continuously. I sense that he is still careful not to really startle me or do anything to make me upset in fear of upsetting me further and bringing my simmering inner distress to an incandescent boil.

I silently commend him on this, resting a little closer than the moderate amount of distance he primarily put between us for whatever reason is in his little head of his. Perhaps this is another way of respecting my silent wishes and troubles. Maybe he's not as oblivious as he comes off most of the time. At least that's what I want to believe.

As the sky starts to gradually darken, I urge August to hurry and take me home before his dad gets home and gets pissed. Although looking slightly let down, we part relatively easily, already used to it by no. It's sad, really, how easily we part for weeks without even a single word.

But it's great to have hope that things will turn out well and that we're strong enough to get through this storm to the halcyon waves of the calm; to the freedom of love and a life devoid of unavoidable oppression by those meant to protect and unconditionally love. Hated, manipulated and wounded by his own father; it's despicable, disgusting and deplorable. To hate your own child is to become depraved; to hurt the one you love for selfish reasons is to be a baneful coward.

And what's even worse is being the one to pick up the pieces of what some careless bastard effortlessly tore apart.

It hurts, really. It does. But I guess it just is what it is. Nothing can change it and nothing can be done except for just sitting back and letting things get better and trying to prevent things from getting worse. Perhaps I'm blowing this out of proportion, but it just pains me to see him like this.

But it's okay because I'm here and willing to help him pick up the pieces. I wish that I could do more but that's not really my place and I think that if I let him be completely dependent on me then things would not turn out well at all. People are not meant to 'fix' other people; it's just not how it works in reality. People have to work through their own problems. Living with that kind of mentality will get a person nowhere in life, or at least in happiness.

Don't get me wrong, they can have help—they should get help—but to depend on someone completely for something that you can do yourself, but just aren't willing to do, is just... taking the easy way out. Or maybe it's just me. Whatever. I don't care. That's my opinion and that's that.

Either way, it hurts like hell to see August like this and it hurts more to know that there's nothing specific I can do for him other than just make sure that he doesn't feel like complete shit. But at least it'll all be over soon; we'll be gone and things will be okay for the both of us. Recovery will be easier when he won't constantly have to face the cause of the problem. He can be happy, and in turn, that will make me happy.

As the time draws nearer to leave, I realize that we haven't even picked a place yet. When I call August, he just gives me a noncommittal grunt and tells me to pick somewhere random and to call him in the morning. The clock reads 4:14 AM and I wince a bit and agree before apologizing and hanging up. Okay, let's do this. Random US state. Hmm, Louisiana, no. California, nah. At least not yet. Arkansas, nope. Oregon, nah. Pennsylvania, eh. New Jersey, no. Hmm, North Dakota. Maybe? Alabama, nah. Delaware, nah.

I go through nearly the whole list before I just shut my eyes and point my finger at one randomly. When I open my eyes, I shrug and nod. North Dakota it is. At least until we can decide on something more permanent. It might be a little more difficult to visit my family, but I guess the visits will just have to be less frequent than anticipated earlier. Eh, it's better than nothing I guess. It's just until we get back on our feet. It'll be fine.

In the morning, I text August the location. He agrees thankfully so I won't have to try again with another state. I wonder if I'll go to college this year or if we'll have to concentrate on working. Hell, I don't even know if August plans to continue college or otherwise.

I've started taking walks more often, mostly to try to clear my mind. Sometimes it works but most of the time, I end up feeling more alone than before. It's okay though because I know that it won't last forever. There's always change in the world and in humans; nothing lasts forever.

Uh oh, existential breakdown detected. Crisis averted. It will be okay. Don't think, Ezra, don't think, just live and don't think about it. It will be okay.

In other news, my little Margaret is about to turn 2. Damn, that's crazy. I just got her a little shitty toy but it'll be okay because Mom and Dad are getting her a kitten. I've seen it and the little furball is definitely right for her. She's going to love it and whatever I get her would end up being cast aside anyway, so I don't really care.

Hopefully the cat will help her cope with my disappearance a little better. Yeah, she'll be okay. It'll be fine.

The party overall is a joyous event. A bunch of our family and family friends come down to celebrate. Margaret only halfway knows what's going on. She's too busy playing with her toys to really give a fuck. What a wonderful life to live. Balloons and streamers litter the house, bringing color to the already lively house filled with raucous laughter and small talk.

When it's finally time for cake, Margaret's eyes go wide at the amazing looking cake. I don't blame her, it looks fucking delicious. We have to stop her from diving headfirst into the cake and we end up letting her eat a bite and take a picture before letting her do whatever she wants. Of course, she wants to get down and eat next to me.

Instead, I take her into the living room, knowing that now the rest of the family will be too busy gossiping and bitching about the rest of the family to notice. And if they do, it's extremely doubtful that they'll even care. So we sit on the couch as I feed her bites and let her sloppily feed me back, giggles leaving her mouth when she 'accidentally' gets some on my face. I lick it off with a grin and playfully tickle her back, threatening her if she does it again.

We play around until our parents come in and announce that it's time to open presents. I carry Maggie back into the kitchen and set her down in her seat with a little pat on the head. She opens the gifts with an unadulterated enthusiasm that leaves me grinning next to her. For a few minutes, there's nothing in my mind but the sight of my baby sister's eyes lighting up as she tears open the smooth paper to find yet another pointless, yet somehow amazing in her eyes, toy. For a few minutes, all is well.

At one point, I grow so bored that I actually ask my boss for more hours, just to fill the days with vapid busy work and distract myself from my worry and impatience. However, I finally discover a nice little hobby thanks to my mom. She suggests knitting as a joke when I complain that even with work and occasional gaming and light reading, I'm still painfully bored. I react to the suggestion like anyone would expect me: with surprise and quick rejection and a little anger and even a little embarrassment. But a few hours later, I accept her offer. Of course, she's barely surprised at my sudden acceptance. Whatever, it is what it is.

Maybe I can make something cool for Margaret or August. If I even manage to muster up the courage to admit that I knit. Fuck it. It's a good time passer and I'll do whatever the fuck I want to. Knitting is definitely cool and why the fuck should it matter that I'm a guy?

It's better than sitting around all day bored and lonely or resorting to some weird shit anyway. Plus, Ginny agrees with me that it's cool as fuck and demanded that when I properly learn, I have to make her a scarf in time for winter. Naturally, I accept with a slight roll of my eyes and a small, but genuine, smile.

Now if only I could master this damn thing. I know it'll take time but I really don't feel like waiting. Maybe that's my problem; I'm too impatient. Oh well, I don't care. That's just how I am. And I don't want to frickin' wait, goddangit!

I wince as I mess up yet again and glare at my fingers as if they're the cause of all my problems and they're the ones who keep messing up.

"Ezra, it's okay. Just move on. Don't get hung up on everything. You're just a beginner after all," Mom explains calmly, trying to soothe my nerves and frustrations.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, glaring harder at my fingers and the needles they hold.

And it takes a while but I finally start to get the hang of it. That's when Mom finally decides to give me a pat on the knee and announce that she's starting dinner. Dinner? I could've sworn it was just lunch like ten minutes ago. I shrug lightly to myself and return to my work, thankful that my distraction has proved to serve its purpose well enough. Hm, good, it'll definitely come in handy on those lonely, sleepless nights when I have nothing better to do than get lost in my own thoughts, which is the last thing I want to do.

The rest of the time is spend at work, bagging groceries for apathetic customers, doing light reading, texting August, and trying to catch a good night's sleep. By this time, these nights are seen as rarities and luxuries; they are treasured. The good is there, of course, but the bad still troubles me and makes me wonder if the good is even worth it. I always end up shaking myself out of these thoughts before I can reach the depressing part where I start contemplating my existence and the reasons for not offing myself then and there. Maybe it's the inspiring thought of a better life later on or maybe it's my overwhelming fear of death. Well, the latter is usually the one that leads me to snap myself out of my thoughts. It's dumb, really, but I still haven't even come to accept death yet. I contradict myself often on the subject.

For instance, I'm terrified of death and the concept of living in death for eternity. Honestly, it's the eternity part that scares me. But I also fear growing old. Sometimes I even convince myself that by the time I'm old, there will be something that lets you be immortal so I'll never have to die. In reality, that's not any less terrifying, yet it soothes my mind nonetheless. It doesn't even make sense but I just can't accept anything other than immortality or pure death with no afterlife.

Even with so much experience with loss from death, nothing has helped me come to an understanding. It's dumb and it really fucks me up sometimes. Way more than it should, really.

All that aside, things are virtually consistent and banal. August and I have been planning more and more to solidify the last details to make sure that we're as prepared as we can be to ensure that things go smoothly for us.

On a few accounts, we manage to meet up and spend a good few hours together until he rushes out, pants barely on, hair in disarray, and excuses falling from his kiss-swollen lips of getting home before his dad so he doesn't get in trouble. It doesn't really bother me anymore, honestly. What's the use thinking about it? It won't be like this forever and it's pointless giving a shit about the circumstances; unless, of course, it's one of the few times that August comes to me, clearly upset about something dumb that his dad said or did. He doesn't cry anymore though. I don't know if that's good or bad, really. It's just whatever.

I don't even know if it'll be any better anymore. But I can't help but hope that somehow he'll manage to put himself back together and be okay again. I'll help him, of course, but still. I'm worried. But there's nothing that I can do except wait it out and be there whenever he needs me. That's all I can do, I guess. Whatever.

I haven't always been this angsty, I swear. Maybe it's just these last few years taking a toll on my. Who can blame me, though? It's been fucking insane and I think that I deserve to be like this. And even if I don't, like hell that'll stop me. I act how I feel and that's it.

Ginny takes me out more as well. And I actually attempt to have fun and make an ass of myself. To let go a little and lose myself to the alcohol and weed and music and just the feel. Note to self, thank Ginny for all of the times she's had to hold my hair for me. Actually, she's probably gotten her revenge with all of the pictures and videos she's taken of me under the influence. Eh, I don't care that much anyway. As long as she doesn't post them anywhere or shit like that. Nah, I know her better than that. She may live to party and have fun, but she knows when to stop. Usually. And that's a hell of a lot more than I can say for a lot of people I've had the displeasure of meeting.

Hanging out with her and Jacqueline has been a great distraction as well. Either that or I'm finally letting myself be brought back into reality more often. In other words, I let myself be distracted easier. I think that's a good thing. And if not, I can't really say that I care. It makes me feel better and that's all that matters, right? Hell yeah, I'm right. Anyone who says otherwise can go get fucked with a handful of sharp dice.

I see myself as bittersweet. It's simple. Mostly I've got a dark, rough bite and then you wait a little and it gets a little better and then I draw you in. Or maybe I'm overestimating myself and I'm really an annoying, prideful son of a bitch. Yeah, probably. I chuckle to myself. Whatever.

I finally set my handiwork on my bed and put in a movie to watch while I attempt to finish my small contribution to the beginning of what will become my amazing products of knitting. And then when I finish this, I'll start to do things like scarves and socks and hats and a cover for my phone. Hell yes. I pick up the needles and yarn with enthusiasm, starting again with a bit more adeptness than when I first started this morning. Maybe I'll knit August a hat that'll go nicely with his hair and make him look even more attraction—that bastard—than usual for winter. And to keep him warm, but I can give him warmth with my body instead, if you catch my drift.

I can feel that this is the start of yet another thing I get obsessed with like reading or thinking or sex. Oh well. Not like I care. This is fun and the possibilities are endless. After I develop my mad skills, though. But that probably won't take much time. I'll make knitting my bitch. I'll master if and knit my enemies to their gruesome and horrifying deaths! I will conquer everything with my needles!

Or something along those lines.

Either way, it'll be so cool making that kind of shit. And for people. Haha, say goodbye to actually spending money on gifts, I'll just make people stuff and then they'll have no choice but to accept it and appreciate it no matter how shitty it is. Not that I'm saying that it'll be bad or anything.

Haha, I can even knit ball or something and put bombs in them and send to my enemies (the few that I have). This is going to be the best thing ever. Saving money, passing time, making people happy, and even a possible murder weapon. What a wonderful time to be alive!

And now I can take less hours for work until I quit. It'll be a little awkward though, since I recently started begging my boss for more. She'll probably understand if I tell her the reason.

I hope that when August and I "move", I can find a place to work that's a little better than a damn grocery store. I'm not setting out for CEO of a major corporation or anything, but I think that maybe a restaurant or a job along those lines will suffice. At least until I figure out what I want to do, and most importantly what I can do. I mean, since we may have to lay low for a while until we can go to school and all that jazz. Plus, we have to think of the budget and not blow all of our money saved for survival on college tuition. We have to be smart about it to make things easier.

It'll happen when it happens anyway. I'm in no hurry to start that whole stressful part of my life just yet. I'll be fine waiting another year or so until we can steadily keep our heads above water. Overall, I'm still worried but I think that in a while, things will be start to be okay.


	11. Eleven

The scene is somber and gray. August beside me is melancholy, fitting in perfectly with the downcast atmosphere that's strange for the bright summer. Clouds linger in the sky, dark grey and I can sense that the weight inside will soon be too heavy to carry until rain breaks the cloud open and pours down onto us. Hopefully we leave before the rain arrives and makes August even more depressed.

August walks sluggishly across the grass, eyes filled with moisture and sorrow, yet he has an air of pained determination. I can understand why, so I just follow him silently offering whatever support I can provide, even if it's just silence. It's all that I can give him in return for the comfort he's given me in the past when I've been upset or bitchy.

We stand in front of a gray slab of concrete in the ground. The concreteness of it almost makes it abstract. August's eyelids fall as a few tears slip down his cheeks silently. I put my hand on the small of his back gingerly, rubbing slightly in a way that I hope brings his comfort. He shows no indication that he's noticed my hand or me in general and I don't really expect him to. Eventually, he ends up leaning slightly into the hand and letting a few more tears slip down.

His throat clear a few times and he sniffs, trying to bring the shedding to an end as soon as possible to get this experience over with and attempt to get closer to some sense of closure. It takes a few minutes for him to regain his self-control but finally he turns to me, nodding slightly.

"Okay," he voices in a grated murmur, "I'm ready."

August steps forward slightly, kneeling down on the grass, holding my hand in his. I sit cross-legged next to him even before he can give me a slight, pressing nudge to join him. He clears his throat, looking torn between discomfort and torment. I send a slight squeeze to his hand and shoot him a small, encouraging smile when he slightly turns to me again.

"Hey, Mom," he trails off, closing his eyes once again, yet nothing comes out this time. "Sorry it's been a few years. I've been... I don't know. There's no excuses. I think about you all the time. I miss you so much," he chokes out then gives me a pathetic, pleading look. "Um, can you give me a few minutes?"

"Of course," I agree, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and stand up to warily walk away from the suffering man. Over the course of the next half hour or so, I walk around aimlessly, reading the names and descriptions on the gravestones. They're the usual generic ones, nothing special. Well, I can't say that they're not special since they mark the bodies and lives of people, but you get what I mean. And if not, well, that's not my problem.

When August joins me again, he looks both drained and relaxed as if a burden had just been lifted, which is fucking fantastic because this whole week, he's been feeling like complete shit. Hell, I don't blame him, the poor thing. I'm just glad that he's come to terms with the fact that her death wasn't his fault.

"So, what next? Wanna get something or just go back to your house?" I prod slightly. August turns to me with dead eyes and shrugs.

"Wanna sleep. House."

And so we walk to his car slowly. I appreciate the fact that it hasn't rained yet, but as soon as the thought comes into my mind, the sky lets out a mighty roar and a crack is torn through the clouds, releasing a tempest unto us. Fuckin a.

August, however, doesn't seem to mind much. In fact, he looks up to the sky in an almost appreciative look, which confuses me a bit, but I pay it no mind. I instead take his hand and lead him to the car a bit faster for the sake of getting him dry and warm faster and to not run the risk of him getting sick and feeling even worse.

As we're pulling away I notice a figure walking the same path that we came from minutes before. A familiar figure that also pays the rain no mind. On the way out of the lot, a car catches my eye and I know that my hunch is confirmed. I debate whether or not to tell August his dad is visiting his mom, but ultimately decide to instead keep it to myself for now until his mood improves.

For the next few days, August barely responds to my texts, instead choosing to catch up on sleep that he previously missed. I of course encourage him, but as the hours tick by, my worry only swells and pulses. I distract myself with cigarettes and deep breaths until he sends me a short text announcing his arrival to the conscious world. Not many more messages are exchanged between but a great sense of relief washes over me to know that he's awake and a great deal better than before, as he assures me confidently and smoothly, the trademark August attitude.

Genevieve arrives constantly with pitiful attempts to distract me from my still present, though only slight, worry with trips to the mall and the small, near subsistent stores that litter our piece of shit town. It's nice that she cares and I make sure to let her know that I appreciate her caring for a bitch like me.

She laughs loudly and replies how that's the way that we're alike; our ability to be a prima donna. I shrug a bit, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, though I know inside that it's entirely true. Whatever.

I decide not to tell her the full details of what plagues my thoughts and the previous events and thankfully she doesn't ask anything, just drags me around and talks boisterously, maybe in attempts to block out the anxieties with a loud enough volume. What a queen.

That night, my nightmares come back full force, one after another with no relief, only cruel, cruel agony.

In the first, I am under a thick layer of ice, but I feel nothing. No cold, no pain, nothing. I float, I bang on the surface a few times, and I shout, but nothing is heard. Nothing works. I lie there, unmoving and terrified under this wall of pure ice. My eyes and throat start to burn as fear consumes me and causes my body to uncontrollably spasm, the indicator of a nightmare that's only going to continue further. My back arches a few times and I close my eyes, banging harder on the invulnerable area. Finally, finally, I hear a small, yet sonorous crack right above my head. As the crack widens, I find my body starting to be dragged down by some sort of invisible force with a strong hold on my psyche and physical form alike.

I scream soundlessly once more and as I look up to the now present hold wide enough to crawl through, I reach my hand up pitifully. To my surprise, a hand reaches down, pulling me up. I see nothing when I finally reach the hole. And then there's light, and purple eyes that smile, but I'm not sure I like this smile. It makes me uneasy, but I accept it anyway. All of a sudden, the purple eyes darken and I feel the force on my body again. This time, the eyes laugh harshly and I'm dragged down once again and then all is black.

I wake up screaming and crying. My hand covers my mouth as I let a few more tears loose and bury my head in my hands in a dumb attempt to calm myself. I stand up abruptly, pacing back and forth—even though it's more like stumbling—as I try to think about something other than the black and the white and the horrible purple. My breath is labored and my body trembles.

A few minutes later, I hesitantly retire back to bed, sure that nightmares don't visit twice and I'll be okay after this. Of course, I am wrong. This one isn't as bad, but still.

I am a man searching for a job in the mountains. A faceless man tells me to look for gold, sure that if I acquire enough, I can make something of myself in this desolate area. I set out, eager to work and succeed. The work is monotonous and generally fruitless, but I keep on working regardless of my failure with the naïve determination of a man trying to find a tiny needle in a huge haystack of limited opportunity.

While in the mountains, I enjoy the scenery while lazily searching. In my idiocy, I fall inside a deep hole that shouldn't have gone undetected. A small cave is revealed by the slim hole of light from the entrance that I stupidly fell through. Another figure casts a slight shadow and I lean forward while squinting my eyes. It took me a few minutes to realize that this slumped figure isn't moving at all or making any noise.

I cover my mouth with my hand, eyes widening instantaneously, as I scuttle away as fast as I can, breath heavy and heart beating rapidly. Fuck fuck fuck fuck no I can't stay in here with a dead body oh fuck this is so terrifying fuck. A bit of vomit comes up that I have to swallow down. I look away quickly, trying not to think about anything and instead figure out how to get out of this hell hole.

Christ, I whimper in my mind, squeezing my eyes closed once before I look up through the hole with a pained look. Please let there be a way out. Maybe I can just climb out and forget this whole ordeal.

In my attempts to climb up the sides and through the hole, I only end up making things worse for the situation as a plethora of rocks fall down the sides and through the hole, ultimately blocking off the only way out and the only source of light.

FUCK. PLEASE TELL ME THIS ISN'T HAPPENING, I scream to myself, whimpering pathetically. Fuck fuck fuck oh my god this is horrible. And then as I try to move, I find that a heavy rock has completely rendered me immobile. I start to hyperventilate.

And then I hear movement. My breathing stops altogether and I squeeze my eyes together as hard as I can, hoping that it somehow kills me before anything can happen that traumatizes me. I beg myself to wake up, pleading with anything, anything that will make this go away. But nothing happens.

And there's another movement. A broken sob tumbles from my lips and there's a slow shushing from across the cave.

"It'll be okay, Ezra," the voice croons. My blood runs cold at the easy whisper that caresses the dank air and slides into my ear luxuriously. I shudder, holding down another sob.

"It's okay. It's just me," the voice suddenly changes to the familiar sound of August, but I know better.

"It's not you," I choke, trembling. I hear another slight movement. "Stop!" I exclaim, shaking my head. "Please don't."

But a deep chuckle sounds through the stale air, raising the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. More movement. Sobs are falling from my throat in fear as I sit there, unable to do anything but await my horrible demise. Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

I hear the sounds getting closer and closer and rocks being moved to the side as the figure approaches me. By the time I know that the thing is next to me, my entire body is ice cold and I feel the greatest sense of terror I've ever felt in my entire life. I'm surprised that the tears that fall down my face don't freeze as soon as they touch my cheeks.

"Look at me," the creature whispers next to me, the voice taking the same characteristics of August's. However, I'm not fooled.

"No." And I clench my eyes tighter, thinking about other things than the terrifying figment of my imagination residing next to me.

"It's okay, darling, just look at me."

And something beyond me compels me to look at whatever is staring so intently at me. The body is accurately August, but as I travel up, the figure holds more and more obvious deceptions; shirt too ratty, weird necklace, jawline not exact, and then the worst of the worse: the eyes.

Or rather, the lack of. Where his eyes should be are two completely hollow holes that hold empty nothingness.

And then the nothingness changes into horrible, horrible visions of my life and my past and my future and August and Mom and Maggie and Andre drowning and then I'm choking and finally I wake up, gasping for breath and bile rising to my mouth.

I run on shaky legs to the bathroom to immediately empty my stomach into the toilet, sobbing pathetically into the bowl.

Fuck.

Needless to say, I don't sleep anymore that night. Instead, I strip off most of my clothing and sit on the roof in my boxers, smoking and trying to block the memories of those soulless eyes from my head that keep popping up without my consent. I take a long, deep drag and let it out slow. This is gonna be a long night.

In the morning, I'm alert of everything and my paranoia is at an all time high while my sanity is at an all time low. Halfway through breakfast, I end up excusing myself to the bathroom to hyperventilate after a sudden memory of Maggie from the dream comes up and slams my actions to a halt like a brick wall.

"Eh-ruh?" Margaret calls out hesitantly from the other side of the bathroom door.

"I-I'll be out in a minute, M-Mags," I reply weakly before taking my head between my legs and trying to regulate my breathing.

"Eh-ruh!" she repeats, indignant. But I shake my head, letting out a whimper. Seconds later, Maggie toddles through the doorway, pushing open the wooden barrier between us. "Eh-ruh?"

She puts a small hand on my head, looking at me with an expression of concern, her little eyebrows furrowed. If the circumstances were different, I would probably laugh. However, I'm still breathing shortly so I shake my head slightly and try to take deep breaths. Without any warning, Maggie attaches herself to my side in her attempt to comfort me.

We don't move for a few minutes until I raise my head, breathing somewhat better, to stand up precariously and lead Maggie back into the kitchen where Mom and Dad sit, completely confused. I cut them off before anything can spill from their lips. "I'm okay, I just... had a bad nightmare last night that's a little hard to forget." They glance at each other, faltering slightly, and then face me once again, looks of concern on their faces.

"Okay, but if it gets worse, then tell us so we can find some way to help," Mom agrees reluctantly. I barely give her a nod before I mutter something about leaving and walk out into the smothering, yet somehow refreshing, atmosphere of summer. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to go but all I know is that I can't be in that house for a while unless I want to be plunged into terror and madness once again. So I wander around aimlessly for a good hour until I decide to stop at a diner for something to drink.

Once my thirst is properly quenched, I wander again, stopping in parks or stores to sit down or loiter. No one really cares though. The citizens welcome me apathetically, paying me little mind. I don't pay attention to them either—none of them really care or matter. I don't care about them either, so it's a nice little relationship I have with this town.

"Ezra," I hear from a short distance away. I jump a bit, startled, and turn around; however, when I turn around, nothing greets me other than the usual boring roadside. Shaking my head and muttering to myself, I turn back around and jump again at the figure suddenly in front of me.

"Miss Vera," I greet the old woman, still slightly alarmed. Vera doesn't attempt to give any bullshit small talk, or even be nice, as she appraises me throughly until she finally stares into my eyes with that dead look, one that sparks fear in my head.

"You haven't been sleeping well," she comments cryptically, hazel eyes showing more knowledge and age than should be possible.

"U-Um, yeah, I didn't last night," I reply dubiously. Is it really that obvious that I had a bad night? Or is she just really... perceptive? Crazy old bat. Either way, I try to stammer out some lame excuse that'll get her away from me so I can haul ass to somewhere better. But she doesn't comply. Rather, she grabs my hand and holds it inside of her hands, frowning at whatever she finds. With one last look, she releases my hand and frowns up at me, eyebrows furrowed.

"Be careful." And then she walks away back to her yarn store. Well, that wasn't horrible or creepy at all. I make my way to another part of town lazily, trying not to think about a lot of things but honestly, there's not much else to think about. Damn, I can't even think about August without that thing immediately coming to mind and making me stop in my tracks to hitch my breath and fasten my heartbeat until I manage to calm down. And then the cycle just start keeps going. Is this what it's like to feel mad? To not be able to think about anything but what plagues the recesses of your mind?

Or am I just being dramatic? I'm not even sure anymore. What does it matter anyway? I feel what I feel and that's that.

Bored with everything else, I hesitantly walk to the river so loved and revered by August and me. I sigh slightly, dipping my fingers in the lazy current and basking in the coolness on my heated skin. For minutes, I just sit on a stump nearby the soft chuckles of the river that whisper my name through the stuffy air. It almost reminds me of Hung.

So I take off within minutes, glancing at the river and feeling a bit disconcerted. When not much else appeals to me, I head back home in hopes that my anxiety and paranoia will finally waive enough for me to sleep. Or at least relax a bit. It's all I want really.

I try to make my room more comforting and light until the fatigue takes over me and shuts my brain off for some hours.

My eyes snap open, taking in my surroundings—or rather, the lack of in the barren land. Hm, a desert. Yet there isn't an air of fear and imminent danger that I usually feel during nightmares. Maybe I'll be this time. Or maybe it'll just come later.

I stand up unsteadily from exhaustion and dehydration—at least I think so. I am in the desert, after all. It takes a few staggers for me to finally wake up and acknowledge the setting. It's a completely bare, dry desert; nothing littering the sky holding the dawning sun or the peaceful tones of the sand.

And though something beats down on me with every single step I take, I struggle through the barren terrain until finally, finally, I come to a prairie.

The grass sways in the tranquil breeze, giving the grassland an even more serene atmosphere. I take in a deep, fresh breath as I smile slightly. Even the air is steady and raw. Though the land is endless and abandoned, I feel relaxed and safe and not even the fact that I'm completely alone can make me feel lonely. Not when I have the wind whispering sweetly to me, bringing comfort to my soul.

In my sleep, I smile, exhaling calmly. Finally, my mind is calmed as the thoughts of the horrible sights are finally cast to the back of my mind to be replaced by green and smooth and calm and tranquil and air and breathe in breathe out breathe in breathe out.

My heart beats in time with the slow twitches of the blades of grass and the slow caresses of the wind. All is well and peaceful until a crack of thunder opens up the skies and pours down rain onto the entire prairie—rain that I can't shelter myself from in any way; I guess I just have to wait it out.

I look up to the sky, still fairly calm, to see the weird woman's face staring at me with that dead look. She mouths something that I can't hear over the roar of thunder. I shrug at her, signaling my denial. Vera waits until the thunder takes a break to murmur, "Be careful." and then vanishes from the sky. Unfortunately, she doesn't take the murderous storm with her and leaves me to drown in the downpour alone and without any help. 'Be careful,' I grumble to myself. How else can I be careful? Not be here? Hide under the air? Do some sort of ancient ritual that's supposed to drive the rain away? Shout at the skies? I just have to wait it out. Crazy old bat.

So I sit down, curling my knees up to my chest and putting my head on top of my knees to sit in some form of comfort until the storm passes. I mean, what else can I do? Stand here awkwardly for god knows how long? I don't frickin' think so.

Thunder cracks around me and lightning strikes down on the previously tranquil terrain that is now trembling and grey in the face of danger. I, however, don't even flinch when the bolts of lightning flirt dangerously close to me.

Suddenly, the bolt strikes me dead in the chest. As I wake up, the sight of August kneeling next to my grave, just like with his mother, silently crying as I stand invisible behind him, reaching out tearfully for him. I shoot up in bed, breathing heavily but overall okay. Better than last time, at least.

My heart rate slows eventually and that is when I choose to lie back down and stare at my ceiling until morning comes, not sure what to think.

Honestly all I want is for someone to hold me and tell me that it'll all be alright, but I'd have to sneak into August's house and risk getting his dad pissed at me or something and... I guess I can just wait the few weeks until our last meeting to get any comfort from him. I could always go to Mom but I just don't feel like it. I'm greedy; I only want one person and that's it. Hell, I'm not even ashamed. It is what it is.


	12. Twelve

Loneliness regresses my mind and body for what seems like eons, making me yearn and ache for some sort of interaction and contact; however, my needs are not fulfilled in the few lonely, touch starved weeks between the meetings. The apex of my desperation is one of my most humiliating ordeals; I still shudder when I remember the stuffy room and the never ending touches by yours truly as I blatantly ignored my family and tried my hardest to conjure up the most lewd and sensual image of August in a tenacious attempt to reach release.

And then finally the days spent alone finally come to a conclusion the day before August and I plan to run away. I'm nervous as hell to say the least. What if everything goes wrong? What if his dad catches us and ends up sending August away or something? What if he hurts me? What if he hurts him? Fuck, I don't know what I'd do.

"Ezra?" whispers August from the other side of the phone line, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Zoned out," I apologize, shaking the negative thoughts from my mind. Seconds later, August just laughs slightly and murmurs back to me, "It's fine."

"So, Dad's going on another business trip tomorrow morning and he told me that he expects me to be alone at the house by Monday morning when he gets home," he explains. I nod for a second before I realize that he can't see me.

"Okay, cool. Then it'll just be easier to—"

"Yeah, to spend more time together," he cuts me off quickly. "I'll explain tomorrow. Just roll with it," he whispers into my ear, silky and low enough to spark a yearning inside of me that will unfortunately have to wait to be fulfilled until tomorrow.

"Yup, can't wait to chill out with you, babe. It's been so long since I've seen you," I sigh.

"I know," he laments with a ridiculously histrionic tone, "I miss you so much. But I think we'd better get some sleep so that we can be more awake for tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow, love ya." I don't even get a word out before he hangs up on me. Rude. I wonder what his deal was. Oh well, he said he'll tell me tomorrow. Now to deal with my little pants problem before I force myself to sleep.

By the time I eat my bowl of cereal in the morning with my family, my stomach is in knots and filled with butterflies at the same time. If only the damn butterflies would strangle themselves on the knots and leave me the hell alone so I can be happy and calm with August. Of course, this is not the case. A few hours pass and my anxiety only rises; it gets to the point where I have to lie down in my pajamas and take deep breaths until August finally texts me saying that the coast is clear and that I can come over. For old times' sake, I propose that we meet up at the river and stay there for a few hours before we finally execute the plan.

Plus I want a few more hours to say goodbye to my family. Jesus Christ, I can't believe that this is happening. I'm saying goodbye to my family. I clutch my head between my hands and take another few deep breaths. Oh my god, this is actually happening.

I pull myself up onto shaky legs and carefully walk around my room to put my clothes on and make sure that I have everything I need packed. I don't plan to take it yet but to hang out with August for a while and then come back during the night to say goodbye to everyone and get my stuff.

It feels surreal to say the least. This will be the last time I'll be living in my house for a while if things go according to plan. Mostly, I'm excited but there's that part that's terrified of what could go wrong and right now that part is tipping the scale against the other, which is not a good thing. Hopefully when I see August, it'll realize how dumb worrying is and recede into the deeper part of my subconscious where it can't be a bother.

As I walk out the door, I give Mom one last kiss on the cheek, Dad a nod, and a Margaret a big hug and kiss on the forehead. I feel myself tear up slightly but force myself to hold it in. At least until tonight when I can give them a proper goodbye. And give Maggie her stuffed animal that she'll no doubt love and cherish until I can come back and be there with her. I can wait until then. Only a few more hours. A few more hours and we'll be out of here, away from everything helping us up and bringing us down. We'll be alone in a world we're not used to. But I think that we'll be okay. We're strong. If we can get through all of this other shit, we can make it out there.

One of my main worries is his dad, actually. Will he find out? Will he somehow find us? Will he hurt my family? Will he hurt us? My heart starts to hammer in my chest, the thudding in my ears growing louder and louder until I force myself to crouch on the ground with my head in between my legs and strain a few deep breaths to my lungs and brain. Maybe then my thoughts will finally be clear.

After a few more choked breaths, I stand again, albeit a bit wobbly, and stagger for a few steps until my gait strengthens once again. Can't let anyone see me like this, I mutter to myself, Gotta be strong. Gotta be strong, Ezra. Don't be scared. It's okay. Be strong. Don't be weak, you loser. It'll be fine.

Yeah. Fine. It'll be... fine. Just got to get to August and see him and take a breath and a step and it'll be okay, just get closer to him, walk, walk, walk, walk, no, that's not good enough, Ezra, run, you have to get there, run, run, run, run, run, run, come on, Ezra, I said RUN!

I pant as my legs carry me to our final meeting place, the muscles and tendons working with my lungs and heart to get me there and keep me from losing myself. Just a little longer, I whisper every few steps even though I know that the distance between us is still much too large than I would like, although in reality, there's only a few minutes until I should reach the ginger.

The people I pass merely glance at me as if I was a freak before turning back to their usual bullshit. And then there's Vera, staring me down just as I remember, whispering to herself. If I could guess, I'd say that she's whispering the very words she told me in that chilling voice. Be careful, my ass. I'll be fine. We'll be fine. So, thanks, Vera, but I don't need your words of warning.

The trees greet me like old friends as I sprint past them while panting harder than a dog in the middle of summer. I fantasize about the river awaiting me and plunging into its cool, hydrating body. The sweat drips down even faster, but no matter, I'm too focused on my goal anyway. Just a little longer, a few more steps, a few more minutes and—

Finally, I see it. Him. His hair, his face, his clothes, his expression, and then it hits me. Oh my god, this is really happening. I don't halt in my movements, even when he spots me and his face lights up. I continue on with a determined look on my face and power in my actions. By the time I launch myself at August, his face takes on an almost fearful expression, yet he doesn't move. Even when I fling myself at him and nearly make us both fall to the forest ground.

I pant into his chest, almost brought to sobs. "God, I missed you so much," I mumble into his shoulder, eyes clenched shut and mouth gaping open. Not even bothering to fuel his pride and ego, he only breathes me in as well, and replies, "I missed you, too." And it feels even better than I expected.

Minutes later, we pull away from each other and he smiles sweetly at me, eyelids low and face relaxed. "Do you wanna stay here for a while or do you wanna go my house first?"

"Uh, let's just go to your house first and get that out of the way. Then we can come here and chill out until we decide to go," I conclude. August displays his affirmation with a short nod and leads us in the direction of his house.

"No car?" I observe, searching for the missing piece that usually accompanies August most places. He shakes his head. "Nah, decided to just walk today and save as much gas as possible."

I nod in understanding and continue to follow the man. When we finally end up at his house, he unlocks the door, making sure to check the whole house and make sure that his dad hasn't decided to randomly come back for whatever reason. I can understand his paranoia, so I follow him to every room silently until his psyche is satisfied.

"Alright," he begins, "So we're here to get the suitcase I hid in my closet that has my clothes and all of the money that I've saved over the months. Then we'll put it in the trunk, drive the car to the warehouse, and walk back to the bridge. Then when we're ready, we'll go to your house and I'll wait for you to say your goodbyes to your family, and we'll go through the forest to get back to the car and leave. Sound good? Good. Let's go. I have to look through it first and make sure I have everything."

"Okay," I reply, following his movements with my eyes. He moves to his room quickly, yet still with an air of caution, and goes straight to his closet. I'm surprised to see his room even more empty than usual. He must have really prepared for this. I can only hope anyway. August lugs a large suitcase over to his boring bed, tossing the full suitcase onto the surface, corrupting the normally pristine condition of the bedclothes. When he opens the case, he starts to take mostly everything out to be placed on the bed. Hmm, clothes, toiletries, money—damn, that's a lot of money—and a few other necessities. When all is out and laid out, his blue eyes turn to question me before his mouth even opens.

"Anything else you think we'll need?" he asks, regarding the items once again. Thinking back intently, I shake my head in the negative.

"Nah, that's it. That's basically what I packed, too, so I think we'll be good," I reply. After he gives it once last nod, we put most of the things back in the suitcase.

"Okay, let's get this in the car and then we'll be good to go for a few hours. Shit, wait. Let me count the money real quick." And so I wait, silently watching him as he counts the huge wad of cash.

"Hm," he hums, frowning slightly at the pile half on the bed and half in his hands, and then proceeds to count again. I wait until he finishes counting once more, a slight frown still marring his beautiful exterior, before I speak up.

"Everything all right?" I ask hesitantly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He shrugs at me slightly and nods.

"Yeah, it all seems to be here. Except for 100 bucks. I swear I had it though, so what if...? Nah, I probably just miscounted earlier," he laughs nervously, "Yeah. It's fine, Ezra. Let's just go before my nerves fucking explode," he assures me with an expression of slight confusion. Shaking his head, he places the money back in the case and zips it up at last. "Yeah, that'll definitely be enough to last us for a while, given that we use it well and don't blindly spend it on shit."

I roll my eyes at him and elbow him on the side sharply. "Shut your mouth, bastard, I'm not that bad with money," I scowl. He laughs loudly as he picks up the suitcase with one swift tug.

"Yeah, okay, try telling me that the next time we're anywhere and you beg me to let you get at least something, baby."

My response is a mature stomp out of the room as I completely ignore him. At least until I get to the front door and call out that I don't know what he's talking about and that I've even been saving for us as well since I'm the one who can actually work while his lame ass is wasting away at college. There's no bite in my words, of course, but when he doesn't reply, I almost regret what I said, worried that I pissed him off with my dumb jokes. Good job, Ezra. Way to go.

Thankfully, when the ginger stomps down, his mouth is tugged upwards in a trademark August asshole smirk. My scowl deepens as I curse his name and stomp away from his haughty face once again. That bastard must be delusional if he thinks he'll be getting anything from me tonight. Haha, who am I kidding? It's going to happen anyway. But that won't stop me from making it a little more... fun.

I slam the door closed behind me, crossing my arms and glaring intensely at nothing to build up the tense atmosphere that August will be forced into. Maybe he'll even squirm. Oh, it'll be so worth it.

The trunk opens and closes within seconds and then August angrily climbs in the car, sparing a glance at me. After a few seconds, his angry demeanor evolves to one of more anxiety. Just as I thought, he quickly begins to glance at me with widened eyes and a nervous mouth. The air turns tense quickly. It takes everything in me to keep my smirk and imminent laughter under wraps.

"Um, I..." he starts, then trails off awkwardly, breathing lowly. He squirms again, clearing his throat and turning the radio on. Nothing appeals to either of us, so he just ends up turning it back off after checking a few stations.

"I... uh... s... orry?" he questions hesitantly. I shoot him another glare and have to hoke the laughter down behind my hand. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. As long as it takes him to crack, I guess.

It only takes a minute or so of absolute, awkward silence until he stops the car on the side of the road and stares at me with wide eyes.

"Okay, I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry and I don't want this day to start off on a bad foot cause this is the start of our new life together and I don't want you to be mad at me and—" Before he keeps rambling on, my raucous laughter finally breaks through my throat. He stares at me with an incredulous look, slowly turning angry. But I'm too lost in my laughter to notice.

"Oh god, I—" My laughs choke me a little bit, "I'm sorry, baby, I really am. I was just fucking with you," I choke out. He scowls at me and starts the car again, driving with a tense look, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. My laughter slowly dies down, but I continue to smirk at the fuming man.

"Pull over, August," I order. But since he's being immature, he doesn't comply. "Pull over, August," I repeat, malice seeping through the conditioned air, turning it thicker and more uncomfortable. With a deep, harsh scowl, he pulls over yet again. His mouth is pulled into a pout, but it's more alluring than intimidating. I pull his chin over, bringing his narrowed eyes to my own orbs full of amusement. His expression softens slightly, but he refuses to stop his infernal pouting.

All of the words that threaten to spill out of his mouth are trailed off as my lips make contact with the sensitive junction between his collarbone and neck. I smirk against his skin, knowing that there's no way that he'll be able to resist my advances. But when I look up, his eyes are staring despondently out of the window. When he's sure that I'm looking, he lets out a long, dramatic yawn and puts on a bored expression. Oh, so you wanna play, do you, bastard? Oh, I can play.

Sure not to go straight to the business right away, I continue my ministrations on his revealed skin, attacking the spots that I know drive him crazy with light, but knowing motions. Instead of getting straight to the full out pleasure, I build up the pressure until I hear him clear his throat a few times. With a quick glance at his eyes, I note his dilated pupils and poor covering up. Oh, this is going to be even easier than I thought.

My agile fingers scrape his flat, smooth stomach lightly and I receive his shivers as a sweet present. Right before my fingertips reach the sensitive nubs north of my previous spot, I drag my nails back down to his stomach, drawing even more shivers and coughs from my failing counterpart. I continue working on his neck, but lower down slightly to land my coup de grace on his collarbone—aka one of his biggest pleasure spots and kinks in general. But right as my lips hover over the slightly protruding bone, breath tickling the skin teasingly, I glance up at my lover. His wide eyes and nervous, but anticipating, face drives me to completely move away from his favorite spot to lean up next to his car, a careful hand residing on his hip and another on his bare stomach. After a few light, teasing nibbles on the shell of his ear, I whisper in a husky voice, "Am I forgiven yet?"

Only a growl, pure and low and animal, deep in his throat, escapes his lips before he reaches an arm around my waist to press my body against his to soothe the craving for pure contact. He bucks his hips up into mine a few times before he pounces at me, landing his attack on any piece of flesh he can get his mouth on. But before he can properly do anything, I push him away sternly, clucking my tongue at him with a chastising tone, even going so far as to wag my finger at him teasingly.

"Nuh uh uh," I scold, "This isn't about me, darling." And to prevent any disruptions or debates, I take his arm from around me and hold it above his head to guarantee my success in continuing. He finally gives up with a small, content sigh and relaxes into the seat. Good boy.

So I return to his neck, finally placing a minute kiss on his collarbone. He rewards me with a sigh of relief, I'm sure. To speed it up a bit, I place my teeth on the hard surface, working the skin with my teeth and lips. A breathy moan escapes August's lips at my actions, driving me to do it with even more force, now pulling the skin in roughly and sucking on the pale flesh, almost testing the elasticity. Yes, it seems to be fine. But might as well work on it a little more, just for something to make sure that people know that he's all mine. From the moans that I'm getting from him, I gather that he has no qualms about this. And if so, then that's too bad.

My arm holding August's own arm soon grows tired so I shoot him a warning glare, silently threatening him should he choose to disobey the unspoken rules of no touching. Thankfully, he just gives me a short nod and stares me dead in the eyes, waiting for me to continue.

Confidence fuels my quick and harsh movements across his pale skin. His gasps and groans fill the otherwise silent car. It only lasts for so long until I finally get to the zipper holding the organ awaiting my deft fingers to play it in the way that only I can for it.

He is mere prey to my predatory touch. And when my smooth fingers finally wrap around that hot, sensitive flesh, he is my victim, my prisoner, my lover. And I wouldn't have it any other way. But it's okay because while I can put him under my spell, his own predatory glances are often enough to make me nearly cream my pants and drown in the feelings that he arouses in me.

My mind finally focuses with the last few deft twists of my wrist and the hand that is sure to bring my lover to his desperately awaited release. It only takes mere seconds for the sticky substance to spurt out onto my hand. I barely even sigh as I wipe the gross liquid on a jacket residing in the backseat. Hell, I even zip up the idiot's jeans for him as he sits in the seat, panting like a damn dog, still recovering from his climax.

"You want me to drive?" I offer in a smug tone. August doesn't even muster up a response, and instead shakes his head and starts the car yet again, albeit a little unsteadily. But we still get to our destination in one piece. I don't even question why we have to have the car somewhere else instead of just keeping it at his house. He'd probably make up some dumb excuse, but I know that it's because he just wants to get away from that poisonous environment as soon as possible. And no matter how much he wants to be rid of it, I'm sure that his preferred last sight before pulling away for good from our oh so beloved town isn't the house that held so many bad memories for him.

Regardless, I silently walk beside him to the forest we've grown so fond of. When we finally reach the familiar sylvan landscape, I take in a deep breath, looking at my partner. Wow. This is where it all began all that time ago. No, Ezra. Now now. Just enjoy it. You have time to say goodbye. It's not time yet. There's still time left.

With not much to do and our libidos still raised a little too high for comfort, we resort to our usual pastime; sex. It starts off as usual, just messing around a bit and teasing until we finally reach the point where we have to ask the big question. Who tops this time? Rather than fighting for it like usual, I just shrug and offer to bottom this time. Whatever, it's not it's bad—definitely not bad—and he really needs it. So it's pretty much straightforward from then on; he preps me with the precautionary lube he carries with him on the days of our meetings. I can tell that he feels grateful for my so-called sacrifice since he stretches me himself rather than ordering me to do it. And they say chivalry is dead.

After that, it's still the same old, same old; him going straight to the boning and me wishing he'd slow down a little and give me time to savor it. Truthfully, I love it all the same. But since this time is significantly special, I unclench my hands from his forearms and place a halting hand on his heaving chest, catching my breath in a few deep gulps before speaking.

"Hold on—nnghhh, August. Hold on," I gasp out, letting out another moan as he nudges gently against my prostate in a brutally unsatisfying tease. He hums into the air, glancing down at me and slowing his pace a bit. "What?" he asks in between ugly little grunts.

"Just slow down, you shithead. This place is important so we should, I don't know..." I trail off, searching for the fitting word.

"Treasure it?" he finishes in a mocking tone, adding a deep thrust at the end.

"Y—ughh—yes, actually," I force out, attempting—but failing—to huff at him. I almost expect another snarky remark but in its stead, I receive his silent accordance. His hips stop moving so jerkily and instead reach further and move with a nice fluidity. Within seconds, I feel his teeth against my neck, worrying the sin between the white surfaces. Following his necking is a smooth hand placed on my hip, gripping the bone roughly and surely creating a nice, big bruise that'll be haunting me for days; god, I love it. To my chagrin, the hand only stays for a good minute or so before it begins to wander upwards once again, seeking out any inch of skin that he can get his fingers on.

At first, it moves up, feeling the outline of my ribs—August relinquishes my neck for a few seconds to berate me about my poor eating habits and demanding that I eat more—and then up again to start the torture on my already ardent nipples. He roughly tugs at the bundle of flesh, grinning at my potent groans of reaction and excitement. Soon, the hand starts to move sloppily as August loses himself in the contact. I don't blame him, really, since we're basically on the same boat. With the feeling of being completely filled again and again, the sparks of pleasure pulsating through my whole body each time he slams against that agglomeration of nerves nestled deep inside of me, the rough hand squeezing against my thigh, and the amazing pangs of pan with each impact to my sensitive nipple, it doesn't take long to be completely overwhelmed as well.

As my mouth gapes open to allow the exit of gasps and moans and cruel mutilations of August's name, I stare my counterpart in the eyes. His blue eyes tinged with the smallest hint of violet meet mind, adding yet another feeling to that, although this one is different. It's not just what he makes me feel in my body, but the safeness and adoration that he makes me feel inside. Just the fact that it's him, the only thing that I really care about, who's staring at me like... I'm the most precious thing in the world, like there's nothing else in the universe but us. And that's when know that all of shit is worth it. For him. For us. We've learned to actually care, to love, to do anything just to see the other smile, even if it hurts.

Our movements are now clumsy and tremulous; in a pathetic effort to reach climax, I grab his back with my hands and drag him even closer to me as I force our bodies together. My fingernails claw their way down his back, feeling the sharp bumps of his spine against the nail and then the smooth stretch of his skin. Although my hands are now busy and his chest is smashed against mine, the contact is not enough; to cure this, I wrap my legs around his hips, desperately trying to make him hit that one spot harder faster faster oh god and rut into his lean torso to feel something against my cock that weeps tears of precum, practically begging to be touched. Awful, shameful moans leave my lips, but damn, I don't even care anymore, not when the fantasy of release now is so... delicious.

And then finally, August lets go of my abused nipple and gives me a sweet nip on the collarbone before he reaches down to firmly grasp my throbbing dick. God, I don't think there's been a better feeling in the known universe than the sweet, sweet contact of a hand on my dick. It becomes too much with the combination of touches and feelings and eyes that consumes my body as I tighten around August once more, clawing his back with one hand and yanking desperately on his glorious auburn locks with the other. I spasm wildly, letting out a cry as I release all over our stomachs. As I ride out my orgasm, August joins me, grunting loudly and pulling out quickly to spurt out over my own contribution. Ew.

He joins me on the blanket, releasing a deep sigh of contentment as he pants heavily. I place my hand on his chest, smiling slightly at the sweet contact, but wince at both the soreness already settling deeply inside me and the sticky fluids slowly drying on my stomach. My hand shoots out to clutch a corner of the worn, loved quilt to wipe the cum off, sighing again at the sudden feeling of freshness. Eh, at least he didn't do it inside this damn. That bastard.

I pull my boxers on again, just in case a random person decides to wander through the forest for whatever reason. Usually I couldn't care less if someone from this shithead town stumbles across my bare ass, but it can't hurt to be safe sometimes.

In the remaining few hours, we rest together on the old quilt, clad in only our boxers, and whisper sweetly to each other about how we can't wait to leave all of this behind to start over together—well, not leave all of it, of course, since I'll still miss my family and Ginny and Jackie. Plus, I think that this place will always hold a special place in my heart. But that's probably just me being a sentimental bastard.

When the sun bids us farewell, leaving the sky open for the full moon, August nods once and motions for me to get up so that we can get ready. Get ready to say goodbye, whispers a voice in the back of my head. Yeah... goodbye... damn, we're almost there. We've made it this far. It's almost surreal how quickly the time has passed and things have grown and died and lived and breathed and loved. And it's just a matter of saying goodbye to my family and making it to the next state's airport until we're finally out for good. I mean, I'm still totally down about leaving Mom and Dad and little Magpie, but damn this is it.

The next part is pretty hazy for me, honestly. All I remember is August's blue eyes staring at me lovingly as he helps my unresponsive figure into my clothes and leads me in the right direction that I know my house to be in. And then the next thing I know, I'm sitting on my mom's bed being help in her arms as she sobs while rocking me back and forth almost tight enough to make my stomach lurch with everything movement. But as she coos that she'll miss her baby boy so much, but can wait until next time, I can't find it in me to really care. I know that she worries so much, but she wouldn't deny my the chance of finally being happy and with someone I really love. So she accepts it but demands that I call or text her once a day (as if I wouldn't—I'd miss her too much) and talk to Maggie on the phone often. I agree, rubbing her back as she weeps into my chest. At the end, I beg her and Dad to not reveal anything to August's dad should he come looking, and to be really carefully around him in case he tries to hurt them.

Dad is the easiest but still, he only gives me a tight hug and clasps a hand on my shoulder, saying that if I'm happy with this, then they'll be find with waiting and letting me go. After he gives me one last lasting hug, he tells me that he's proud of me and turns to my still weeping mother to comfort her as I leave.

I scowl at the few bills he stuffed in my pocket when he thought I wouldn't notice, knowing that they probably need the money even more than I do. But when I slowly open Margaret's door, the scowl melts to reveal a more solemn, caring expression. The toddler is sitting on her bed, whispering random gibberish to one of her favorite stuffed animals, Henry.

"Hey, Mags," I greet softly, watching as her small, pretty head snaps up to reveal a bright smile and laughing eyes. "Eh-ruh!" she calls, opening her arms for me. Laughing, I cradle her in my arms and launch her into the air a few times, grinning at her joyous giggles.

"Eh-ruh back?" she asks innocently. I offer her a small, broken smile but shake my head. "Not for long, buttercup."

Her eyes widen and fill with tears. "Nuh! Stay!" But I just close my eyes, placing her safely back on her bed and climbing in next to her. I can barely think, only imagining her bright grin morph into that horrible, watery pout.

"I'm sorry baby girl, but I gotta go. I'll be back though. It just might be a little while," I explain, trying to soothe her. She barely listens though and only shakes her head stubbornly, protesting that I stay now. I sniffle a few times before I smile sadly and shake my head. I tell her that I have a surprise for her in my room that I have to go get. She pouts but reluctantly agrees to let me leave. I choke down a few sobs as I grab the soft stuffed plush from my dresser.

"Okay Maggie, here it is," I sigh as I hand it to here, trying to keep everything inside me from getting out around her. She squeals happily at the gift and hugs it tightly to her body, proclaiming her love for it. I smile at her softly once again and plant a kiss on her forehead. Her wide eyes stare up at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I've gotta go. I'll miss you so much," I choke out. Obviously, this wasn't the best thing to do since her finally happy smile made way for another depressed stare. I rest my head on top of hers, not wanting to look her in the eyes and face the pain. The force of her shaking her head nearly throws my own head off, but she throws her small but strong arms around me to keep me in place next to her.

"No! No! Don' go!" she blubbers. In an attempt to quicken the suffering, I grab her by the shuddering shoulders and try to look her sternly in the eyes.

"Margaret Inez Altair, you listen to me. I have to go but I promise that I'll be back. You just have to wait. But I'll be back. It'll be just like waiting for the... for the mailman. You have to wait sometimes, but he always ends up coming eventually. It'll be like that, you just have to wait a little longer."

"You're da mayul-man?" she asks, rubbing her eyes slightly with a small hand. I chuckle a bit but shake my head. "No, baby. Just... wait for me. It'll be okay, Magpie. It'll be okay. Plus, when you get sad and miss me, you can see your new panda and hug it and pretend that it's me. But if it takes a long, long time, then take this letter that I'm putting at the bottom of your toybox and give it to Mama and Papa."

And with one last hug and kiss for Maggie, I join August on the front porch. I nearly collapse into his arms from all of the emotional turmoil and exhaustion. Sobs wrack my body as he shushes me and tells me that it'll be okay—not unlike what I did with Maggie.

I attempt to look back but the sight of her waiting at her window, hand on the window and tear-filled eyes break me once again, so I have to look away.

When I finally regain my composure, we begin the trek back to the car. The sight is long past familiar from the months of spending nights in the cool sylvan setting and walking to meet up with August. But now, it holds a sort of sweet safeness. Even in the dark—when god knows that could be lurking under the safety of the trees—it feels like home. The river comes into sight and I stop on the bridge momentarily, smiling at the river gurgling with the current. I sway with the breeze and chuckle along with my watery companion. An idea comes to mind, one that will cleanse my sad thoughts of leaving and renew my previous thoughts of growing wings and flying. Why not go for a short swim before we leave? Just to say goodbye. It was how we met after all.

"You wanna?" I ask August, already in the process of tugging my shirt off. He shrugs, glancing at the calm water in an almost anxious manner. Hmm, probably because it's night and the water's already deep enough as it is. But it'll be safe since we're good swimmers. I go ahead and strip down to my boxers, moaning at the feel of slightly cool air on my sweaty skin. Damn summer. I jump into the water that's probably too high to be safe. Oops. I'll be fine. As long as I don't hit my head on a rock—again.

August stares down at me from the bank, smiling fondly at me. For minutes, we calmly discuss the last few parts of the plan.

"Oh and why did you make me stop talking on the phone that one time?" I ask, referring to the conversation where he cut me off quickly and hung up.

His eyes narrow a bit before he speaks in a strained tone. "Dad's been getting worse lately. Really paranoid, actually. Listening in on my conversations and trying to bug me."

"Bug you? Like annoy you?" I inquire, confused.

"No, as in microphones and cameras to spy on me. Thankfully I caught him before anything could be revealed." I nod in understanding, dunking my head underwater for a few short seconds.

It turns out that in those few short seconds, everything goes to hell.

When I rise to the surface, I expect another remark from August, but receive nothing. As I examine my boyfriend, I notice his eyes widened in horror at a figure to the side. I squint my eyes but can't make out this mystery thing. But as I hear a voice from the same direction, my blood runs cold.

"Hello, Ezra. How nice of you to join us," it croons, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and sending chills down my curved spine at the horrible silkiness invading my ears. But... he... No! Not now! We came so close. And now... it's all ruined.

"H-Hello, Mr. Vega. Uh, wh-what're you doing here?" I ask, trying to play it off even though I know that it's a futile attempt.

"Oh, I think the bigger question is why have nearly all of my son's possessions disappeared along with several thousand dollars? Really, it's insulting to think that you think me so dumb. Or blind. And now it's all over," he tuts, chuckling darkly at the end.

"Come on, Dad. Just let us gone and we'll never do it again, I swear," August pleads. Wait, why wouldn't he let us go? What?

"Oh, so sorry, Mitchell, but it's too late for that now. How can I expect you to learn from your mistakes to achieve success if you never suffer and truly learn? No, it's far too detrimental to your future to be associated with this... this... scum. He must be ridded of so that your mind can be clear and focused."

Eliminated? What the fuck is going on? Is he going to try to fucking kill me? "What the hell are you talking about?" I demand, confused and angry and afraid. But they both ignore me and continue to bicker. I can't hear most of it, but after a few minutes while I dumbly tread through the same spot and attempt to not lose my shit, there's a sound of rushing water and August turns to me, mouth open to most likely yell something at me. Or for me.

Before he can say anything, however, a tremendous blast of water knocks me off of my feet, landing me sideways onto a huge rock. From then on, all is blurry and confused and dark. All I can see is the moon shimmering above the water, almost laughing at my inability to move, to live, to do anything.

There's a splash to the side and I lazily move my eyes to meet August's blue eyes with my own half-lidded eyes. I reach a hand out, pleading silently as my last breaths come harshly. Help me. He reaches out, but as our hands touch, his eyes close and he shudders, looking upward with a twisted grin. He mouths something to the sky and when he looks back at me, I almost gasp. Well, I would if I could do anything but lie here and die.

His beautiful sea-blue eyes are now a vicious, animal violet full of blood lust and hunger. The lips usually smirking or grinning or pouting or kissing are now in a marred, malicious snarl. His hard—nearly a claw now—clutches mine tightly, crushing the bones in a death grip. But I can't look away. I can't do anything, even as he drags me down and forces me to breathe water. With my last breath, my eyes are open and pleading. The water welcomes me with open arms, whispering into my ear in the voice of a previous friend—Hung? He hugs me to him, muttering that he's missed me so much and that we've always belonged together.

Darkness—and a few twinkling friends—greets me in my death. All is dark. I am no longer.


	13. Thirteen

August's POV

Mother? I see you. Can you see me? Are you proud? Are you happy? Are you hungry? Please don't make me eat anymore. I've been trying to stop, Mother. I'm sorry. I would do anything for you, I whisper to the full moon. Her brightening from the meal I provided brings a smile to my face. I love you, Mother.

I love you, my darling Mitchell. You're so good to me, she coos in my thoughts. I quickly rush to the surface to fully great my beloved mother. When my head breaks through, my thoughts clear and my head throbs with new memories. What? What did I do? Ezra? Where is Ezra? Oh no. Oh, God, Moon, Kami, anything, please, please, tell me this didn't happen. Tell me that I didn't do this. Anything but this.

Dad's grinning face only verified my fears as I scuttle to the river bank, heaving as I vomit onto the already slippery soil. I'm a... I'm a fucking monster. Fuck. Fuck! What the hell have I done? I heave even harder, body now shaking with effort and sobs and terror.

What have I done?

My legs are shaking as I force myself up, not even bothering to wipe the leftover bile from my mouth and chin. How do I live with myself after this?

As I stare down my father, rage and hate and agony course through me as I land a blow to jaw, clutch his shirt collar in my hands and whisper that I'll never come back after this. Before he can even smirk or protest, I shove him into the water and run away as fast as possible.

After stumbling through the forest, I reach the car and fumble with the keys. The ride is spent trying to see the road through my tears as I search for a hotel or motel or hell, even a shack. Just anywhere somewhat safe to stop.

A random hotel comes up finally, so I pull in, taking my suitcase with me. I stoically pay for a room under an alias—with cash, just to be safe. I sit on the bed for about an hour, doing absolutely nothing. I sit and stare at the boring beige wall and think.

What can I even do? God, I have to tell his family. How can I look them in the eyes and tell them that Ezra... what happened when I can't even look myself in the mirror? When I can't even think about it, much less say it.

But they have to know. I can... I can write them a letter. And then I'll run. It'll be fine.

How can I say that? It'll never be fine!

I take out a piece of paper and pen from my suitcase, placing it on the small nightstand. How do I even start this? Sorry but I accidentally kill your son? Fuck! Okay, say that there was an accident and I can't bring myself to stay, so I'm leaving. Yeah, that'll be fine. They don't have to know that it was me that... did it.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Altair,

It pains me to do this, but you deserve to know what happened. It seems that Ezra will not be coming home. There was an accident near the river that we stopped at and he fell in and hit his head on a rock. His death was instantaneous and painless, to the extent of my knowledge. I'm sorry that you had to find out from a stupid letter, but I'm not coming back either. Staying there is too painful, especially now.

What happened to him was unfair and tragic and horrible, and I can't help but blame myself for it, so I wouldn't take it to heart if you did as well. Just know that I loved your son with everything in me and that if I could turn back time and make sure that he would never get hurt, I would.

I give you my sincerest condolence and bid you farewell. I am truly sorry and I hope that you find peace in his untimely passing.

August Vega

My lips are pressed together in a taut line as I write the final sentences and place my pen down calmly next to the paper. All of a sudden, I shoot up out of my seat, heaving breaths tumbling out of my clenched teeth, and kick the chair hard, growling in anger. With nothing else to damage, I storm out of the room and ignore the confused looks I receive as I leave the hotel.

What can I even do? How do I live? I'm alone and angry and horrified that I ended the life of the only one that I've ever cared about. How do I live with myself?

Fuck! I slide down the side of a random wall outside of a convenience store and let my hand drop in my hands with a solitary groan. Fuck. What have I done?

Finally, my back rises back up before my mind can even comprehend my movements. I enter the store and pick up a random item from the shelves. Hm, Ezra loves there. Loved these.

I put them back a minute later and promptly walk back out while shaking my head. Maybe I should go back and find some envelopes or something. No, it's too late.

In the end, I decide to mail the letter in the morning before heading out to the airport and flying to freedom where I'll figure out what to do thereafter.

The first part goes perfectly but as I drive out to the airport in the next state, the sky not yet tainted with the burn of the sun, I lose all hope. My driving becomes sloppy and cars all around are honking at me. I smile softly up at the moon, still weak in the morning sky, and run straight through a red light as a large 18-wheeler T-bones me on my side.

In my dying thoughts, I relish in the thought of finally being able to be happy alone with Ezra and being able to let him meet Mother and be together for the rest of eternity. All is well. I am forever.


	14. Epilogue

On a similar night 15 years later, a hooded figure stands near a river claimed by two unfortunate lovers years ago. The figure holds two objects, one in each hand. A letter worn from years of touched and glances, and a simple stuffed panda plush, battered and moldy and obviously treasured by the lone human. The moon is high in the night sky, surrounded by hundreds and thousands of her fallen children and still gleaming, although with a different light than years before.

This gleam is no longer thirsty and yearning and murderous, but content and happy to be with her children. She in content, although the solitary human is not, because of this moon.

She knows that it is much more than just a moon. She shivers, recalling the nightmares of drowning and of the mysterious man with red hair who used to call out to her and her brother and—

She stops herself and inhales deeply, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension building inside of her. Come on, she tells herself, I'm here for one thing only and I'll get nowhere dwelling on these inane delusions.

Steady hands take the letter, reading through the wrinkled paper once more before ripping it into pieces. The bits of paper fall into the river, joining the two fallen lovers and the earlier who was known by few and has seen many as a river spirit. Before the girl walks away, she stares back up at the sky, instead regarding the stars with her forest green eyes.

I'm still waiting, Ezra. You promised. I'll wait forever, no matter what you say, she whispers defiantly at a grouping of stars before she walks away back to her house.

Somewhere at the bottom of the river between Vega and Altair, the letter settles on the floor, only to be read by the very one that holds the corpse of Altair himself.

Hey, Magpie,

So I wrote this a few nights before I'm giving this to you, back when I started packing. I just thought it'd be good to give you, just in case. Just in case what? you may ask. Well, to be honest, I'm not really all that sure myself, but I just have this bad feeling that something might happen to me that would leave me unable to visit you guys. So I figured that I should let someone know in case.

I've been having horrible dreams about drowning and death and August that seem to only worsen as time progresses. I can't help but feel at least a little paranoid about this endeavor, but if I come back safe and sound, then feel free to rip this up or eat it or burn it or something.

And if I don't come back safe and sound, then know that it wasn't by choice. Not by August, either. I know that he would never hurt me. Don't keep waiting for me. Move on. Please. If something happens to me, I don't want you to dwell on it for years. Just grieve and move on.

I love you guys and I'll miss you. See you soon.

Ezra

P.S. Still stay clear of August's dad. He's dangerous and I don't know what he'll do.

The girl shakes her head as she walks away, looking up at a certain star.

"I'll always wait for you, Ezra. Forever."

Up above the ground that this young woman walks upon, a star twinkles in the night sky as a spirit shakes his head of unruly blond hair.

"It's different now, Maggie. I'm waiting for you now. Don't join me too soon. Enjoy your life. Live for me."

Somewhere at the bottom of the river between Vega and Altair, the last piece of this painstaking tale is set to rest, just as the lovers themselves. For the rest of eternity, they are finally allowed the rest and freedom they previously craved. The fallen are joined in the universe to watch over the new generations and to find out the purpose of existence and the universe and the moon. Ezra is reclined back, laying himself in August's arms. The two young men take a deep breath together and breathe out into the atmosphere filled with friends. All is well.


End file.
